


The Medical Ninja's Guide to Romance

by aelibia



Category: Naruto
Genre: Author horny for ellipses, Background Relationships, Bath Sex, Clan Politics, Complicated cocktails, Developing Relationship, Discussion of Abortion, Drama & Romance, F/M, Face-Sitting, Gaara does not know how human relationships work, Greenhouse Sex, Happy Ending, Haruno Sakura & Aburame Shino - Freeform, Haruno Sakura & Yamanaka Ino Friendship, Hoki Clan, Hoki Tribe, Hot Springs & Onsen, Ino is a useful lesbian, Minor Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto, Minor Yamanaka Ino/TenTen, Mutual Pining, Naruto and Sasuke's Gay Wedding of the Century, One-Sided Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke, Oral Sex, Other, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Queer Character, Sakura is the straight friend in this one, Semi-Public Sex, Senpai Notice Me, Sex on Furniture, Slow Burn, Succulents, Table Sex, The Author Regrets Nothing, The thirst is real, Tsunderes, Wet Dream, What Have I Done, YEAH I SAID IT, blurb stolen from twilight, cocktail bar, dumb bitch disease epidemic, is it still slow burn if they have sex a lot but the emotions are the slow burn, suna worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-09-28 01:57:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 41,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20417990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aelibia/pseuds/aelibia
Summary: “Oh? I was hoping I could get you to beg for it first.” She shifted gently and he felt the slide of her pants and undergarments as they made their way to the tent floor.“I think,” he said, “I’d much rather hear you beg for it instead.”About three things Sakura Haruno was absolutely positive. First, nailing the Kazekage on the floor of a greenhouse had not awakened anything in her whatsoever. Second, she absolutely did not have a crush on Gaara, as this was scientifically and morally impossible. Third, Sakura was unconditionally and irrevocably an idiot.





	1. In This Chapter We Learn Why It's Called a Hot House

**Author's Note:**

> [returns 30 minutes late to the fandom with Starbucks]

The first time was a shock to both of them. It happened, as shocking things often do, in a greenhouse in the middle of a desert.  


After Gaara’s little kidnapping and minor death incident came to a satisfying close--a reinstatement of Gaara’s Kazekage powers here, greatly exaggerated rumors of his death suppressed there, a bit of insurrection by an overeager council quashed all round--the Kazekage had taken it upon himself to thank Sakura personally, in private. He found her cleaning up after herself in the greenhouse she had used to create the antidote.

Sakura deflected, modestly. It’s my job, she insisted, gathering up the last of her supplies, subtly scanning her tools to determine which had been examined by curious Sand medics. She would do the same for anyone, she said, as would any medic.

She turned to face him and lost her balance on the uneven, mulchy surface of the greenhouse. Gaara reached his hands out instinctively to help her at the same time as Sakura’s arms whipped out to catch herself. Because the universe hated her, her overcorrection set her left boob on an unavoidable collision course with Gaara’s hand, who didn’t have one goddamn thing in his small-but-growing arsenal of social niceties to fix this situation. Sakura watched the color drain from Gaara’s face. There was nothing in his siblings’ well-meaning crash course of Normal Human Interactions to fall back on here.

But in Sakura’s mind, something just _clicked._

Consider: she had, in less than one week, saved a puppet man from certain death, fought and killed an additional puppet man, shown up a rival hidden village’s entire team of medics, and faced off against her old teammate’s brother.

Sakura knew, from both experience and medical training, that everyone had a point of emotional overload. She’d experienced her own overload quite a few times, and, since becoming a medic-in-training, experienced others’ hundreds of times.

There were other things, too. Naruto’s return, which she’d been happy about, had been startling as the two of them tried to figure out how they fit together with a Sasuke-shaped piece missing in the middle. She’d also come home one evening two weeks ago to find that all of her plants had died, which was an embarrassing wakeup call heralding her overworked exhaustion. Kakashi-sensei, who Sakura had tried to reconnect with six weeks ago after bitterly ignoring for months, had forgotten their brunch date and never apologized. She’d also finally made it to third base with that chuunin from T&I and then felt conflicted for days afterward, feeling like she was letting people “steal” something that belonged to Sasuke. Oh, and she’d had to switch birth control for the fourth time after this last one made her throw up for the first week of every month.

So by this point, she knew she hadn’t so much as reached a point of emotional breakage as she had smashed through it with a chakra-laden fist.

But life must go on. It wouldn’t do to embarrass the Kazekage over this mammary mistake.

She’d seen the type of person he’d become over the past few months, catching him in corridors and in Tsunade’s office, the two of them delicately reconstructing the building blocks of their alliance. He would never have groped her on purpose, and now she would deftly back away, assure him no harm was done, and they would both go on with their lives.

“You can keep going if you want,” her mouth said instead. _Oh my fucking god._

With infinite slowness, Gaara’s eyes crawled from her breast up to the neckline of her shirt, meandering across her throat before finally meeting her own. As she watched, the haunted look of a kid watching his life flash before him gave way to the knife-sharp stare of a person who just realized they might get to smash some puss today. It was unsettling on _his_ face.

Completely and utterly without permission, it also made her a little wet.  


“...Okay.”

They come together like novices learning how to ballroom dance: there was much confusion at first, but eventually the order of things was figured out through halting forward advances and awkward repositioning of limbs.

The anxiety keeping her alert for the past few days imploded hard, leaving Sakura light-headed. Her body took over where her mind failed her and she reached for his face to draw him in for a chaste kiss, palms running down the lines of his body like this was what she was made for.

When was the last time she touched someone like this? Gaara held his hands in front of him, not defensive but unsure and vulnerable in a way she’d never imagined he could be. His shyness emboldened her, made her want to perform and take charge.

“It’s okay, you can touch me.”

And then Gaara’s hands were everywhere, seeking out every bit of her exposed skin, leaving behind goosebumps and tremors in his wake. His hands were softer than she would have thought. A memory came, unbidden: Ino blabbering away about the exfoliating benefits of her many jars of perfumed grit. It was hard not to giggle at the thought of Gaara exfoliating with sand every morning, hawking his unique and deadly spa services on street corners in Sand.

She anchored her own hands on his hips and pushed up, testing the limits of his patience as she stroked wiry, taut muscles shivering underneath her fingertips.

When was the last time anyone touched him at all?

They boiled down their combined frustration into unsatisfied tugging and pulling of clothing. Sex was new to both (she assumed) so her expectations were nice and low. Sakura knew, from conversations with Shizune, that first-time vaginal sex was an adjustment even under the best of circumstances; spectacular orgasms enjoyed by lusty virgins in romance novels were a bit of an exaggeration, but so too was the intense pain that so many girls feared even from masturbation. Her arousal would help, she knew, and the rest was just a matter of slow deliberation.

They were patient with each other. He didn’t seem to mind when she grabbed certain sensitive things too hard, and she didn’t mind patiently explaining the geographic location of her various holes.

In the end she decided getting on top offered the best control for discomfort or pleasure. There was a bit of a sting at first, a bit of uncomfortable friction, but after a few moments of deep breathing she calmed her pelvic muscles to the point of cooperation. She felt giddy, almost high. Actually, she probably _was_ a little high from all the stims she’d been railing for the past three days.

She was nailing the Kazekage on the floor of a greenhouse.

She was _nailing _the _Kazekage_ on the _floor _of a _greenhouse_ that smelled like _dangerous_ plants and cactus blossoms and there was _no time for regrets, buddy, _not in _this_ emotional economy.

The sex was not mind-blowing. It wasn’t awful, either.

She knew vaginal orgasms didn’t happen to everyone and almost certainly not with a brand-new partner. Plus, while desperation made for the hottest steamiest sex in the Icha Icha novels (Sakura will never admit to reading them), in the real world all desperation did was chafe.

Sakura suddenly regretted not considering pocket lube as a legitimate candidate for her medic pouch. She made a mental note to shop at her local sex store at the earliest convenience to design an Unexpected Sex Kit. It should have lube. And condoms. And maybe a vibrating cock ring. Oh, but there would also have to be many _types_ of sex pouches, to account for different fetishes, the quirks of biology, sexualities... could vibrators be solar powered? Could you make _chakra-operated sex toys?_

When Sakura forced herself back to the present and away from small business schemes, she looked down at him to make a terrible botanist joke involving stamens. Her heart almost stopped, her casual silliness humbled by the way he looked up at her.

There were few words she could dredge up to describe his expression, but she tried anyway: hungry, gentle, wild, frantic, defenseless, shocked. Distantly she registered sand undulating in frenzied ropes in the air around them, not seeking but madly gesticulating in rough, manic spirals.

She wondered what that meant.

When he screwed his eyes shut and gripped her waist for dear life, taking control of her pace, she knew he was close, and arched down to brace on his shoulders as she sped up in turn.

He looked at her with that same curious expression after he finished, wide-eyed and panting. She wondered what he thought of her as she pulled away and cleaned herself off with a discarded rag.

She had no idea that in a few weeks he would read the entirety of Jiraya’s published works with an earnest determination that would make Lee cry, and he would feel no more certain about sex than he did a month ago.

He would have a lot of new questions, in fact. Some about the safety of putting fruits into interesting places. A few about the realism of “just shoving it in there.” One about power bottoms, whatever those were.

For now, she felt content simply with putting her clothes back on, turning around while he did the same. She felt shy watching him button his shirt back up, the act feeling intimate of all things. She had seen him destructive, murderous, psychotic, and she had seen him collected, polite, reserved. Always untouchable.

To think that he buttoned his shirt up just like everyone else sent her unbuckling and rebuckling straps to ensure he would finish redressing before she had to pull her head back up again to see.

Sakura shoved the remainder of her supplies, some of which now covered on the floor, back into her pouch and steeled herself for what was certain to be an awkward goodbye.

She didn’t regret…it, but she didn’t know what It meant to her yet. Who knew what _his_ standards for normal relationships were, sex or no sex. 

She pondered handshakes and hugs and bows before settling on the worst possible thing.

“Um. Thanks.”

He just looked at her, covered now but exposed in ways that he couldn’t try to hide anymore. The politely distant mask was back, but now she could see where its edges ended. If you knew to search for them, you could see a tiny twig he missed now lodged between folds of cloth. His face was slightly flushed. His hair was completely wild from where she’d furiously clung to it.

A small hickey poked out from his high collar, and she felt torn between embarrassment on his behalf and intense pride at having stolen Gaara’s virginity from his local harem of horny fangirls.

The shame she expected to creep up miraculously didn’t. In the moment, this simply delighted her. Later, she would realize she hadn’t thought of Sasuke in days. Not in the chaos of healing Kankuro, not during adult hug time with Gaara, and not until three weeks later when the mention of an Uchiha in an old textbook jogged her memory. She will wonder what this means, also.

Now, she watched Gaara’s face carefully and felt rewarded by the light blush dusting his cheekbones as he turned to escort her to the gates. She paid only cursory attention as Naruto said some nonsense about goodbyes and Gaara held his hand out for Naruto to take.

Sakura thought, _I really hope this doesn’t bite me in the ass, _unconcerned by whatever monumental political shifts were being realized before her very eyes_._ She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, not knowing what would be worse: if he looked at her one more time before she left, or if he didn’t look at her then or ever again.

Their eyes locked a split second before Gaara shook Naruto’s sand-assisted hand and she quickly glanced away, counting holes in a _fascinating_ specimen of petrified sponge near her feet.

After, she held his stare for what felt like an eternity. Long enough for his siblings to look at her, him, and then each other. Long enough for Baki to see the hickey on Gaara’s neck and think _‘we knew this day would come.'_

As Sakura turned to head home, she met Kakashi’s curious gaze, trying and almost certainly failing not to let everything show on her face. Kakashi-sensei hummed thoughtfully and said nothing. Oh, well.

“Hey Sakura, I think your shirt is on inside-out.”

“Shut the hell up, Naruto.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You should know that I do not give one single shit about Naruto canon. I barely read the Wiki entries for relevant locations and canon arcs, just enough so that I could slap up a cardboard backdrop to accent this sparkling pornography. I'd always liked GaaSaku but was afraid that if I tried I wouldn't "do it right." But with the way Naruto ended I think we all know that even the series creator wasn't doing it right. We should all have more confidence in ourselves.
> 
> And a final note: this story is finished in its entirety at 41,000 words and six chapters. So much for a writing exercise. Comments will be used to resurrect the soul of my love for writing. Many thanks to mouseymightymarvellous (tumblr) for agreeing to beta this story after I contacted them completely out of the blue. 
> 
> (Since this is my first time posting to Ao3, PLEASE let me know if you spy any weird formatting things. I am only used to FanFiction's brand of formatting issues.)


	2. In this Chapter I Contrive a Chuunin Exam for [Sex] Plot Purposes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing smut is so much easier when you’re not a 16-year-old virgin like I was when I wrote all my other smut. I know how sex works now. I know all the secrets, like how sometimes it is always bad and then you find out you have vulvodynia and vaginismus and you do lots of therapy and medical intervention about it. Happy TMI Day, and may we never feel ashamed to talk about our sexual pain and conceptualize it as a medical issue and not something wrong with you as a person. I wish someone had told me then when I was still a 16-year-old virgin. May we all be kinder to ourselves. Anyway, here is a lighthearted tale of two fictional characters having sex.

When she had time to think—back in Konoha, back to her normal life and her normal hospital rounds—Sakura had trouble settling back into her everyday rhythm. Biologically, she clocked her symptoms, which had started in the minutes after… it… and which had increased in intensity since then. She puzzled over the symptoms with a medic’s keen eye, listing them in her head: staring off into space more than usual, increased heart rate, lower appetite, trouble sleeping, and a weird tension in her chest. Maybe she’d picked up some sort of bug from him?

Curiously, she also couldn’t quite put into words how she even _felt_ about sleeping with Gaara. She _had_ feelings about it. She could feel them rolling around in her belly, wreaking havoc. They just weren’t quite the feelings she thought she’d have.

She fully expected guilt, shame, regret, embarrassment, or even apathy to settle in eventually, but an entire week after being back home, none of them had manifested. There _was_ something there, but it wasn’t something she could give a name to just yet. There was also a degree of residual horniness, unfortunately. Nothing she did seemed to get rid of it.

Guilt, regret, shame—those would have made sense. For someone who spent her formative years pining after—and saving herself for—one specific guy, Sakura would’ve even welcomed the guilt as an affirmation of her chosen romantic path. Now, though?

“I had sex with Gaara,” Sakura said to herself. “And I don’t know how I feel about it. But…I kinda want to do it again? Maybe? Yeah.” She wondered if thinking about Gaara naked would ever feel normal. Maybe thinking about him naked _was_ the reason for her symptoms. Could sex _kill_ people?

“That sounds wonderful, dear,” said the elderly patient whose bottom Sakura was currently washing. Sakura finished rinsing off Arisu “Throat Puncher” Kato and returned to the nurses’ station still lost in thought. Gaara would return to Konoha soon in order to solidify details regarding the chuunin exams, and Sakura needed a Plan by then. Whatever the hell was going on with her body in mind, she would definitely see him again, and there was no way she could go in blind.

He had to have felt something, too, if the way he’d looked at her at the sendoff had been any indication. She hadn’t parsed his stare even remotely at the time, let alone what remained of it in her memories, but whatever the hell had occurred between them had affected them both in some way.

But no matter how he felt about it, the only thing Sakura could control was her own actions. So, she spent the next few weeks tossing around different ideas with a few very confused people.

“I feel like if I have sex with him a second or third time, then I can examine my physical and emotional symptoms for any established patterns,” Sakura said to Shizune, whose hand was wrist-deep in a vagina feeling for dilation.

“Uh huh.”

“This will also have the benefit of ‘Getting it out of my system,’ as it were, if this is the cause of my physical _or_ emotional predicaments,” Sakura continued, not at all daunted by Shizune’s lack of attention. It was kind of therapeutic, explicitly airing your sex life to people who weren’t really listening to you.

“Eight centimeters. Right, yeah.”

“I’ll also have a chance to figure out what the hell he thinks about all this by then. Yeah. That’s a great plan. I’ll go ahead and get scrubbed up.” She was out of the room and halfway down the hall when Shizune poked her head out the doorway.

“Wait, you _what? _When did you have sex? Aren’t you like ten? Sakura, get back in here!”

Sakura cleaned up and put on her scrubs with the half-assed attention of a true, sleep deprived medical student. _So, _she thought to herself. _Let’s go over the mission parameters. _

The next joint chuunin exams with Sand would happen in six months. Suna had agreed to host the first two parts of the exam, but the final part, the tournament, would be in Konoha. Gaara would attend, of course.

The exams.

In Konoha.

_Increased heart rate._

Where she lived.

_A tension in her chest._

Oh god. _Gaara is coming to Konoha. _Sakura’s thoughts, which had up until then been running full steam ahead on lust and scheming, departed from the tracks and cascaded off a 900-foot cliff. _That’s—oh god. It’s real. It’s happening. I’m going to see him again. Here. But— _

“Why am I panicking over this all of a sudden? Didn’t I _want_ this? Just this morning I wanted this. And now I want him to go away? Why am I feeling lightheaded? Do I or don’t I want this? What the hell is even happening.”

“Sakura, for the love of crap, give me the baby’s weight. And we are going to have words about this later.”

Later that afternoon, she washed the same bedpans for a third time, lost in a tempest of contradicting emotions and the growing realization that, in fact, she wasn’t actually brave enough to go up to the Kazekage and ask him if he wanted to sleep with her again for personal experimentation purposes.

“It’s not like I don’t have options,” she told the bedpan. And the next week, while absent-mindedly doing double rounds with Ton Ton, she pondered some of those options.

She could… run away from Gaara the moment she saw him. _No, that would be conspicuous and would cause political blowback._ Fuck Gaara? _Well, obviously, but _how. Manipulate Gaara into making the first move so she felt less responsible for her choices _and_ got what she wanted? _Yeah, yeah. I mean, he’s a scary person, right? He could be a total alpha male I bet. He was just caught off guard last time. He wasn’t staring into the depths of my soul with a tender vulnerability the likes of which I have never known. At all. _

“Right, Ton Ton?” Ton Ton made an indecipherable pig noise. Sakura had a feeling she was being scolded for her lack of moral fiber and general poor ethics.

“But I _have_ to be right about him not being invested in this. I mean, _I’m _certainly not invested in this. I can’t afford to get tangled up in a foreign relationship in any case, and all I want are two things: to get laid again and to figure out what the hell is wrong with me. Concurrently. It’s just—it’s just for fun.”

Ton Ton put her snout in the air in delicate scorn.

“Well, if he would have felt something, he’d have said it already, right? It’s not like he’s _shy, _right? And it’s not like he _likes_ me, god no. He’s _Gaara_. And the Kazekage. It’s all physical for men anyway, so none of this has anything to do with him.”

Ton Ton managed to look skeptical and offended all at once.

“Well it _doesn’t_. Guys just want sex. I don’t see what’s wrong with me wanting sex, too. I guarantee he isn’t even thinking about me right now, or ever. _And_ if I prod him in the right ways, I’ll get to have more sex, which I want, and I’ll figure out what the hell is wrong with me and why I feel like this. You know, maybe everyone feels like this after they have sex. Or maybe just the first time. Yeah, that makes sense.”

She went to the Yamanaka flower shop once she got off work, where she brusquely informed Ino that she’d had sex—"Yes, for real, so stop screaming”—and, though the identity of the person in question would remain secret for now—"Okay, okay, yes he’s from Suna and we _did _see him at the exams, technically”—that she’d appreciate Ino’s cooperation in her scheme. Unfortunately, even once Ino stopped screaming, the girl was _entirely_ unhelpful.

“Forehead, this is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard you say, and I’m including the time you told me you thought whales weren’t real. _Dumb_.”

“Dumb?” Sakura sputtered and put her hands on her hips. The nerve. Also, she still had no proof that whales _were_ real. “This is serious! I feel all funny and I can’t stop thinking about when I had sex with him and I keep wanting to do it again, even though it’s a stupid idea!”

“You’re not sick, you cotton candy-headed moron. You just have a big, stupid crush and you’re trying to science it away with science words. All of these ‘symptoms’ are just garden-variety side effects of a big, stupid crush.” Ino put up a hand, authoritative finger pointing directly into Sakura’s white-lipped face. “And you’re nervous about seeing him again because of the aforementioned crush. You don’t want to get too invested because you don’t know how he feels about you. Bitch, I can read you like a pop-up book.”

_“Excuse _me?”

“I do like the idea of sleeping with him again to see how you feel about it. Just don’t do some weird scheme. That’s really messed up. Like, majorly unethical. You’re grown now so act like it. Wine and dine him if you want but be upfront. Be a grown-ass woman. God, I can’t believe you got laid first in our cohort. My money was on Kiba. ‘Cause, you know. The dogs?”

Sakura did not know. And in any case, she was _livid. _Ino was not only wrong, she was the _wrongest person in the entire universe._

“How—how _dare_ you even _suggest—_I would never. Ever. Not with _him_. I do _not_ have a crush on—I can’t believe you would look me in the eyes and say that—like, honestly, after all we have been through together—” Like a shark smelling blood, Ino-pig sunk her teeth in.

“Ooh!” Ino’s eyes sparkled with elation. “You wouldn’t be this mad if it was just some guy, would you? Ooh, Sakura, he’s somebody im_por_tant, isn’t he? Sakura, you naughty, naughty girl, what did you do? _Who_ did you do? Oh my god, was it that puppet guy? The Kazekage’s brother?”

Sakura did the only sensible thing to cover her ass at that point, which was to run from the flower shop at top speed with Ino’s cackles ringing in her ears.

She found the tallest tree at the loneliest edge of the village and climbed to the top to do some quality overthinking.

Ino couldn’t be right. That was insane. It was _Gaara. _People didn’t have crushes on Gaara. Sakura of all people couldn’t have a crush on Gaara.

“He tried to kill me!” she yelled at the closest leaf, which probably did its best to look attentive. “It has to be something else. Everything I’m feeling right now can be attributed to something else. They’re all generic symptoms that could be coincidentally caused by anything.”

It was a betrayal to her love for Sasuke. To her village, even.

But the more Sakura thought about it, the more it all made sense.

Sweet mother of Madara. Ino was _right. _Sakura _did _have a big, stupid crush. And Sakura was screwed. Crushes were silly and simple, common in teenagers and nothing to be embarrassed of, but they could turn into things. Dangerous things. Like—like love. And as much as Sakura shamefully the star-crossed lovers genre in media form, she had no intention of acting it out in real life.

She would _not_ fall in love with Gaara. She couldn’t. It wouldn’t work, and he’d never feel about her the same way, and then she’d be all alone again, just like—

No. She couldn’t let this happen. Not even to sate her horniness. It was simply too dangerous. Worst of all, she had no allies to assist her in this venture because there was no way in hell she was telling anyone she had had sex with Gaara of the Desert. The only thing she could do was find a way to be out of the village, but that chance was slim to none when Tsunade needed her for medical services during the exams and to show off Konoha’s young medic ninja talent to their allies.

At best, Tsunade would laugh at her if the older woman found out _why_ Sakura wanted to leave. And even if she stayed, there was no hope of begging off from her medic duties in favor of—I don’t know—doing an extremely important and dangerous medical mission—

“—Somewhere else, anywhere else. _Please_, Tsunade-sama."

“No,” Tsunade said, not looking up from her paperwork. “Why would I send you off on a mission when you could be here, helping the medics prepare the hospital for the tournament? You’ll be needed here.”

_Told you,_ she singsonged to herself.

Sakura sighed. It was worth a shot. Looked like she’d have to deal with this the hard way. Remaining in front of Tsunade’s desk, she took mental inventory. She still had half a mind to tear herself apart from the inside out to avoid having to decide what she valued more: her future sanity, by way of getting over her crush without involving Him and making things messy; or her horny body, which was mainly concerned with getting some dick.

God, Ino had been right on the money. The physical symptoms she’d hoped to attribute to illness or a natural response to sex were simply a big, stupid crush. When she thought about him, her heart did all manner of disgusting pitter-patters. It was, frankly, humiliating. She wanted to hide. She wanted to propose. She wanted to meet him halfway at the border and fuck both of their brains out. It felt like Sasuke all over again, plus some actual coitus.

If only they could go straight to having sex, and then she could handle any emotional awkwardness after. There was only so much awkwardness that could happen _after_ sex, right? In Sakura’s opinion, after seeing anyone’s o-face there were essentially no more secrets to hide. At least, not the ones that mattered. Probably. And friends with benefits were totally a thing. Feelings didn’t have to get involved, and then the crush would go away with time, and _then_ she could go back to crushing on Sasuke full-time.

_I should ask Tsunade if seduction jutsu are actually real or if Ino was just lying to me that one time._ In front of her, Tsunade had stilled, the hand pouring her sake halted mid-pour. Sakura’s sudden descent into fantasy had not gone unnoticed.

“So, who is he?”

Sakura’s stuttering denials and beet-red face did absolutely nothing to pacify Tsunade, whose inexorable thirst for drama was more intense than Shino’s—yes, Shino’s—and dangerous for its unpredictability. You never knew what Tsunade would latch on to.

“I don’t have a boyfriend, Tsunade-sama. You know that.”

“Not what I asked.” Tsunade shifted position in her chair and resumed glaring her paperwork into submission. “Are you up to date on your birth control?”

“Ye-es.”

“Don’t you roll your eyes at me, girl.”

“Yes, Tsunade-sama.”

* * *

The day Gaara and his entourage arrived in Konoha was terrible. Nature itself, because it hated Sakura personally, strove to make a contrived metaphor for her suffering. A scorching summer morning gave way to an equally scorching and now humid evening by virtue of a violent afternoon rainstorm.

It was the type of rainstorm that made the temperature drop for ten beautiful, damp earth-smelling minutes, before shooting up again with twenty extra degrees of dewpoint. Sakura thought it could be an omen, but to be fair she had spent the last week looking for one, so self-fulfilling prophecies and all that.

As she stared magnanimously out upon Konoha, Tsunade set Sakura’s grim fate by ordering her youngest student to meet the Sand party at the gates. Sakura risked a smack by pointing out that usually one of the chuunin guards did this task, to which Tsunade replied that Sakura had been specifically requested by the Kazekage. _Oh god. I’m not ready. Oh god what does it mean. What does it _mean.

“Impressed and humbled by your medical abilities, no doubt. Good job on that, by the way. Don’t want that Sand boy getting fresh with me.”

_He’s mad at me. He’s going to humiliate me. He’s going to blackmail me. I have to resign immediately and change my name and leave the country._

“She did save the Kazekage’s brother,” Shizune pointed out, craning her neck out the window toward the front gates. “He probably just wants a chance to return the favor somehow. Or-r…” The older woman trailed off, eyes dragging slowly to meet Sakura’s.

Sakura dearly hoped Shizune wasn’t recalling a certain conversation they’d had in the hospital.

“That’s true.” Tsunade’s back straightened sharply. “Sakura.”

_Don’t act suspicious. Don’t blush. Don’t act suspicious. _

“Y—yes, Tsunade-sama?” _Goddammit._

Tsunade’s eyes narrowed. Seconds passed with the patience of glaciers.

“Stop by the liquor store on your way back and get some more whisky.” Tsunade gripped her empty soju cup meaningfully, apparently unaware of her apprentice’s inner turmoil. Sakura allowed for a small sigh of relief. “That good shit. You know.”

Sakura _did_ know that. She left the office with all the energy of a prisoner climbing the gallows. She could only hope that, whatever Gaara had on his mind, he’d at least do her the small courtesy of holding off on acting until her errand was through.

But because the universe had it out for her, Gaara took one look at her stiff, forced-polite bow at the gates and sent his attendants ahead to begin talks with the Hokage. Once they were gone, he turned to Sakura and spoke.

“I wondered if you would come.” His chin tilted up, the angle sharper than his words.

Sakura gave him a once over and despised herself a little for blushing. _I _will _defeat this crush._

“I wondered if you would ask to see me again. Kazekage-sama”

She fidgeted with the position of her arms, deciding against clasping them in front demurely or crossing them defensively. She settled on gripping her left elbow with her right arm.

Ninja tended to read too much into body language, and she could only wonder what he saw in hers. With any luck, she’d get a read on his first, but the man standing in front of her now was hardly the startled boy she’d been attached to at the hips in a greenhouse. Perhaps with more experience she would know what it meant when he shifted his weight just so, but for now she’d make do with unpacking what words she could drag out of him.

“You thought I was angry.” He stepped forward and she fell into his stride, carefully maneuvering to stay a fraction of a step ahead of him. If he noticed, she couldn’t see it in his face.

“No,” she said. “I just didn’t know what you thought… it meant.”

He didn’t seem to like that. Maybe. Was that slight narrowing of his eyes because of what she said, or just a reaction to the setting sun glaring off a steaming puddle of water? Did he clasp his hands behind his back just now to look professional, out of habit, or to intimidate her?

All the ways she’d learned to read the blank-faced men in her life failed her when all she could think about was his hands on her waist. She felt betrayed by her own body, the way it reacted so wantonly underneath her clothes at the mere memory of his touch. The way her symptoms returned—just by seeing him, just from the flash of red hair from a hundred yards out—with all the grace of a brick to the skull, leaving no possibility that she could be, after all, merely ill.

She began herding him through the streets toward Tsunade’s favorite liquor store, ignoring calls for her attention in favor of eyeing the Kazekage in her peripheral. The man she’d once read like a book as he clung to her hips with a bruising grip had vanished, replaced with a more familiar version of him, a man as indecipherable as a doctor’s handwriting on a prescription.

“What _did _it mean, then?”

He stopped and Sakura looked up to see the neon lights of the liquor store. In her concentration, she’d almost passed it by. She didn’t know whether to feel relieved she wouldn’t have to double back or offended on Tsunade’s behalf that Gaara had anticipated her errand.

Sakura sighed. She couldn’t let him find out. He would never feel the same, and the more she fed her crush by dwelling on it, the bigger it would get. “I don’t know.”

* * *

The evening heat oppressed the senses, sticking to Gaara’s skin like a wet blanket. Desert heat he could handle. Suna’s clothing makers designed the loose, linen-based garments he wore with dry, windy climates in mind. But the air in Konoha this time of year practically stood still, and the humidity was so high that even sweating didn’t help.

And then there was the girl. The woman. The medic. Sakura. Gaara had spent the past three days of travel entangled in alternating bouts of gut-wrenching insecurity and eagerness so intense it was humiliating. He waged an invisible war against all the different facets of his personality, his brother’s drunken relationship advice, some unfortunate reading homework, _and_ an amalgamation of combined tactical suggestions on how he move forward with this… relationship? Arrangement? Mistake?

It wasn’t as though he didn’t have options. And on the journey to Konoha, he pondered some of those options.

Ignore her. _Coward._ Tell her never to speak to him again. _No._ Take her on a date. _Me?_ Wage war against Konoha and win this time. _Can’t._ Abdicate his position and elope with her. _Won’t._ Challenge her to a one-on-one and let the winner be on top. _Tempting._ Impress her with a ridiculous feat of strength, such as lifting her entire apartment into the air with sand or opening a jar. With or without sand. _Workable._ Walk back out of Konoha and make someone else do his diplomacy errands forever. _Best option._ Buy her several fruits and see if she could fit them all up her—okay, not that one. Gaara still wasn’t sure if that was legal, though Kankuro _did_ say he’d seen that show in Grass.

The only thing he was sure _didn’t_ work was the only thing he’d tried, which was jerking off until he stopped feeling sad. And not only had it not worked, it had made him even more sad. He’d also found that too many back-to-back Sad Jerk Off sessions resulted in terrible physical consequences having nothing to do with feelings.

He couldn’t stop thinking about her.

He remembered the way she touched him and felt lustful. He remembered the way she looked at him and felt wistful. Worst of all, his siblings and Baki had responded to his newfound penchant for daydreaming by asking ridiculous questions such as if he was “all right” and “needed a break” and also by sending well-meaning looks of concern his way.

In short, he had a lot going on. And his penis stung every time it rubbed up against his clothes. And here she was, one arm clutching the other for dear life like _she_ was the one needing to feel defensive.

Well, there was only one way to solve this problem, and that was to act like a god damned adult. He opened his mouth to inform Sakura, politely, that he thought it best they discontinue any interactions beyond the professional.

Yes, that would suffice.

Everyone would save face, and things would go back to normal. He was perfectly _fine_ and _okay_ and he did not feel cold sweats coming on at the thought of her never running her hands over his shoulders ever, ever again. He was also not going to cry about this later.

She beat him to it. “Gaara, I…” She started wringing her hands, eyes darting from the ground, to him, to the liquor store, and back again. Then, she stilled and gave a great, heaving sigh. “Okay, look. I have to get some—something for Tsunade-sama. I’ll walk you the rest of the way to the tower. But I have some things to do at the hospital.” She looked him in the eye again. “If you want to talk to me, find me later today. My apartment. I live in number seven above… well, here.”

“You live above the liquor store?”

“Yeah.” Sakura glared at the building. “Once I was ready to get my own place, Tsunade-sama was _very_ helpful in making sure I got an apartment here. I thought she was just being nice at first because they really are decent apartments, but I should have known. Anyway.” The arms folded up again, resolute. “Um, wait out here until I’m done. Please.”

* * *

To Sakura’s surprise, Gaara showed up at her apartment later, his arms clasped behind his back and his posture excellent. She answered the door fully dressed, fearing and hoping that any clothing-related excuse for him to step inside right away would lead to horizontal hugs before she’d had a chance to center herself.

In the end, she led him to one of the quieter tea houses nearby, a quaint place with a menu that was good but not amazing. More importantly, the owner had the sense to pretend not to be eavesdropping, and shoed out any nosy customers interested in what the hell the Kazekage was doing with a Leaf chuunin.

She chose a spot in the darkest corner and took a seat angled towards the entrance. He did the same. He asked what was good, she made a couple suggestions, and the food came almost immediately after they ordered it. It felt so much like a date between normal teenagers she struggled not to giggle. Her. On a date with the Kazekage.

She settled into her seat and considered the object of her crush. He was attractive, but not in Sasuke’s overpriced winter hiking wear model sort of way. Gaara was pretty. _Like an underwear model. For expensive underwear._

_He definitely smells better now than he did when we first met. Old blood is not a great accompaniment to any outfit. _

She took small sips of her tea, risking mouth burns in order to avoid starting a conversation just yet. She just—she just wasn’t ready, dammit. She needed more time. She could feel the horniness poised and ready, but the crush required further stamping down. If she went too fast and just slept with him, the crush might come out and then he might _see_ it and then—_oh god no._ More ogling was good for now.

She turned slightly in her chair, deciding that if she _was_ going to ogle him, she might as well get over herself and do it shamelessly. What was he going to do about it in a public place, anyway? He tolerated her stare good-naturedly as it humped its way up and down his body. Sakura sat back in her chair again, unsure how to react.

At their first chuunin exams he’d killed more than one person for looking at him the wrong way. For being around him when he was feeling particularly murderous. This Gaara? He was almost _docile_. Sakura felt at a loss. Murderous Gaara was simple. Intimidating Gaara was remote. Kazekage Gaara was aloof, professional. All those Gaaras she could work with.

This Gaara just made her feel uncomfortable. 

She was ill prepared to handle extended doses of composed, blank Gaara, especially when she’d seen him clothes rumpled, hands desperately clinging, eyes searching hers— No… his eyes were the same even now. Intense. Searching. But what for?

Her newfound solution to solve Gaara Problems, based on a sample size of one (1) case study, involved taking his clothes off and destroying him sexually and emotionally, but as much as her crush _and_ lust enjoyed the option, this teahouse was not That Kind of Place, even after 8 PM.

Still avoiding conversation, Sakura settled for examining the bottom of her teacup as though it was the most fascinating thing in the world, possibly more fascinating than the petrified sponge in Suna. And just as it happened at Konoha’s gates, Gaara took it upon himself to break the silence.

“You tried getting a long-distance mission right before I came.” He sat his teacup down, and Sakura realized his plan was to just meet the issue head on. Well, there was some comfort in that. “Was that to avoid seeing me?”

Well. There it was, then. It was all going to come out now; he would wring it out of her like dish water out of a rag, and down she’d go into the drain.

_Of course. _She was just some chuunin, after all. Embarrassment crept along her arms, bringing her hands together in a rigid clasp in her lap. Now he’d admonish her. He’d tell her what had happened between them was a mistake, and that she was never to speak to him again. Stupid, silly crush. Stupid, horny body. She’d known this might happen, but all the same she felt unprepared for how much it hurt—

But then she saw it.

It was almost indiscernible, but because she watched for it, she caught it the second time: he was bouncing his leg slightly, the way Naruto had always done right before making some sort of dramatic, anxious outburst.

Was Gaara actually nervous?

As crazy as it sounded, it did sort of make sense. She remembered the way he blushed right before turning his back to her in the greenhouse and had wondered then what this had all meant to him. Perhaps she hadn’t been the only one tortured with what-ifs and assumptions these past few months.

And now that she looked him with a more empathetic eye, she could see the little signs of stress. The leg jumping, the strain around the eyes, the hands gripped tightly around the teacup. He _was _nervous. About _her._

She remembered he wasn’t all that older than her, and forced her hands into a relaxed, palms-down position over her thighs. He was almost cute. _Gaara_. Cute.

_There is no way in hell Gaara gets crushes on people._

“Look, Gaara.” She set her jaw and watched him do the same.

“I may not know why I did what I did, and I don’t really know what it meant to me. But I do know that I don’t think what happened was a bad thing.” His chair creaked as he sat up a little straighter. “I mean, you were technically the first person I’ve had sex with. That kind of sex, anyway. It did mean _some_thing to me.”

“What did it mean to you?” Hungry eyes. A subtle tension in the shoulders, like a cat waiting to pounce.

No. He couldn’t want her like _that. _

_I get it. He’s a guy. He wants to have sex again but wants to make sure I’m not falling for him or something that could get politically messy._ What was the harm, if she just—?

Deflect. Defend.

“You’re the Kazekage. I’m a Leaf shinobi. We don’t—we don’t have to make this serious, or anything. I don’t know what it meant to me. But it doesn’t need to mean… a lot…?”

Her stupid, little crush would go away sooner or later. And, in the meantime, she could have fun sex with him all she wanted. Yes, that was the secret to success.

He sat across from her at the little tea table in a little corner of Konoha, just looking at her, and she entertained the possibility that in another universe the Kazekage had a stupid, little crush on her, too. It was a nice fantasy, but completely out of the question. And not what she wanted, obviously. Because her crush _would_ go away, and she would get back to focusing on Sasuke.

It was Gaara. He was the Kazekage.

_Identify poison, extract from body. _Easy.

Sakura sat her teacup down, decision made. She reached for his hands, laying her right hand over his left where it still gripped his cup. His skin felt warm and human, just as it had before.

“Let’s go back to my place. We could…try again?” She allowed herself a tiny smile at the way he perked up ever so slightly. 

A few minutes later saw them back at her apartment after a brisk walk in which both of them attempted not to look like they were in a hurry, which went about as well as someone high pretending they were sober.

She locked the door behind them, sitting Tsunade’s Good Shit on the table for later. It wasn’t likely Tsunade was still lucid at this point, so there was no rush. She put a couple dishes away, closed the blinds in her living room, and straightened a couple photos, because these were things that needed to be done. She was in no way stalling for time to think about what to do next. Gaara had apparently decided to demonstrate patience once again, sitting at her kitchen table politely and waiting for her to make the next move. It _was_ her place, after all.

Well, time to get to it, then.

She pulled her shirt over her head in what was supposed to be a single liquid, graceful motion, the way actresses always did in the Mist soap operas she would never admit to watching. In yet another cruel move by the universe, her shirt got stuck on the way up and she had to get acrobatic with her elbows to free herself from the tangle of skin and fabric. It definitely didn’t seem to matter to Gaara though, whose eyes had suddenly gone wide.

_Confidence. _

_Be confident, Sakura. Layer on the sass. I can do this._

“Gaara? Do you want to have sex with me again?”

“…Yeah.”

* * *

Gaara could not recall feeling so physically relieved in months, not since he thought his favorite restaurant in Sand had closed only to find out they’d just changed their name again to dodge a few tax restrictions.

He’d come to Konoha expecting a confrontation, having prepared for Sakura’s anger, her disgust, her lies, her manipulation. From start to finish the entire affair had ground his nerves down to sad, little nubs.

He’d had to put up a fight—a polite, well-mannered fight—when his council insisted that attending exam preparation meetings in person were better suited to subordinates. Most of them folded easily when he pointed out that attending in person would show not only to Konoha but to the other villages that the alliance was strong.

Baki had not folded at all. Baki had given him a Look and some pursed lips, but Gaara’s poker face was immaculate. So in the end he got his way, and for what? The chance to hunt down and demand explanation from the woman who’d haunted his every waking moment? Like some sort of love-sick dog?

When you didn’t sleep, “every waking moment” was _all_ your moments. Just this very morning he’d caught himself staring out the window again with a dumb look on his face, daydreaming quixotic about Sakura like some sort of low-budget rom-com protagonist. It was disgusting. It was improper. It was… predictable for a person raised with a near-total absence of healthy human connections, once he thought about it. He was an emotional bomb rigged to explode at first fuck.

And so what if he wanted to cling to Sakura and never let go again? His mind’s eye had inflated what memories he had of her to nonsensical degrees. He remembered her dominating, Machiavellian, passionate, lustful, sensual, and delighted in cyclic thought patterns too wild for the rest of his mind to catch up. Reality routed him. The sight of her walking up to the main gates with small, uncertain steps had startled him, thrown him off his game, ripped him unkindly from make-believe.

For weeks he’d prepared to grab the emotional bull by the horns and cut the Leaf medic off entirely, for both his sanity and the sake of his beleaguered genitals. He had not expected her to invite him into her apartment. He also had not expected for her to take her shirt off right in front of him, hands on her hips in a pose that exuded equal parts rebellion and challenge.

Gaara had always enjoyed exerting his strength over others. Where before his bloodlust drove his aggression, now he channeled that strength into politics and leadership. But this was new and exciting, albeit entirely confusing and intimidating. The memory of her rocking back and forth frantically over him always made him a bit lightheaded and more than a little hard, but now that this new path forward opened to him, he wondered what she would do if he decided where that path went. Hell, he’d gotten this far on a smattering of awkward questions and declarations. Now if he could only remember how this had gone in the books…

He got to his feet and closed the distance between them quickly, noting the way she stood up a bit more stiffly, hands cautiously raising in front of her to defend against—no, it was not a defense. _Easy._ She placed her hands at his waist, drawing them up to and over his chest to wrap around his neck, bringing his face closer to hers. She hesitated, and he kissed her.

Carefully, he mimicked her pose, resting his hands at the swell of her hips before cautiously creeping them upward to follow the dip of her waist. She didn’t throw anything at him or try to punch him in the face, so he had to be doing _some_thing right.

Unlike the fevered, desperate kisses she’d given him in the greenhouse, these were slow and lazy, passionate but cautious as they both tested the water. He didn’t have any experience to fall back on here, so he watched and felt and listened to her soft sighs as direction.

Her stiff, uncertain posture from before melted into sensuous curves as she pressed up against his front, leaning into his caresses as he became bolder, fingers skimming the bottom of the sensible working bra that covered her chest.

He pulled back from kissing her to look her in the eyes, looking for any hint of resistance or discomfort and finding only heat and determination above flushed cheeks. He wondered what she saw in his face.

“You can take it off if you want,” Sakura panted, looking at him through her lashes.

“Take off what?”

She rolled her eyes to the ceiling and kept them trained there while she shimmied out of her bra, leaving her with only some spandex shorts and her medic apron to cover herself.

Even though he’d seen them before, he felt more curious about her breasts this time. He couldn’t remember if he’d touched them, then. Apparently deciding he needed some encouragement, Sakura tossed the garment over her shoulder and reached for his wrist with her opposite hand, placing his palm directly on soft, malleable skin.

“You don’t need to be so hesitant,” Sakura said, tossing her head back defiantly. “I want you to touch me. Don’t you want to touch me?” 

“I do want to touch you,” he said, giving her breast an experimental squeeze, enjoying the way she inhaled sharply in response. “I just don’t want to rush this time.”

“Ah.” She looked down at the floor, and for a few unnerving moments Gaara wondered if she’d ask him to leave.

“I’m sorry.” He blinked at her, unsure how to respond to this whiplash change of tone. “That wasn’t fair of me.”

He leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss in the middle of her forehead, noting the way it deepened her blush.

“I don’t mind,” he reassured her. She closed her eyes and released some of the tension from her shoulders.

“So how _do _you feel about all of this?”

“Overdressed.”

She laughed then, a clear sweet sound that sent his heart racing. She threw her arms around his neck again and planted kisses in a line from the middle of his chest back up to the side of his mouth, teasing him at the corner of his lips with a slight peck.

“Well, take me to my room and I’ll help you with your problem, then.”

Loathe to disappoint her, he picked her up around the waist and hauled her up, giving her time to wrap her legs around his body to secure her position. He walked with her through her small apartment, heading toward a door leading from the living room into what had to be her bedroom. She left kisses up and down his neck and he savored them while rallying his nerve for what came next.

Her bedroom was an explosion of color, unexpected given the spartan nature of the rest of the apartment. Succulents and flowers filled various planters on the windowsill, the floor, and her furniture. A closet door half-open revealed multiple colorful outfits, and medical charts lay scattered in loose clumps on the floor.

“Studying,” she offered by way of explanation. He grunted an affirmative and deposited her gently onto her bed, following her down until they both lay on their sides, facing one another. As much as he wanted her underneath him this time, he decided to follow her lead, figuring she couldn’t get upset if he did what she wanted.

“Well, here we are,” she said, trailing a hand up and down his torso. “Can I help you with that problem now?”

He gave her a small smile and sat up, gripping the bottom of his shirt and pulling it and his undershirt off in one smooth motion. “Better?”

“Much.” She stared shamelessly at his newly bared skin with a mischievous look in her eyes, clearly delighted at her acquisition. He tried not to gasp when she finally touched his bare skin with her hand, a little self-conscious at how her simple touch was enough to get him halfway hard.

She trailed her hands up and down from his chest to his stomach, shifting down so he hovered over her. Slivers of streetlight peeked through cracks in her blinds, illuminating the shape of her body in bands of light. He kissed her chest right between her breasts, pleased when she rewarded him with a hum and a stroke to the back of his neck.

“Having fun?”

“Hmm.” She looked up at him through downcast lashes. “Could be having more fun.” And without breaking eye contact, she propped herself up on her elbows and drew her tongue slowly across one of his nipples. She laughed gently when he closed his eyes to rally whatever shreds of self-restraint he had left for the day. He would _not_ come in his pants. He would not. Not over a nipple lick.

“You know what, Gaara?” He felt her lower body shift from side to side as she removed the last bits of her clothing, tossing them away into a dark corner of her bedroom. Completely naked, she reached for him with all four limbs, hauling herself completely off the bed to dangle from his body.

Distantly, he realized that this was the first time he’d seen her naked. He hadn’t even the time to get a good look before.

“I want to do something fun.” She kissed him deeply again, tightening her legs to press up against the bulge in his pants and he groaned softly. At this point she could probably ask him anything and he’d comply.

“Do it. Do whatever you want,” he said, a little more desperately than he’d intended.

“Hmm.” She dropped herself back onto her bed again, breasts jiggling wonderfully at the impact. She brought a finger up to her lip, playing at being deep in thought. “In that case,” she said, her other hand creeping toward the waistband of his pants, “let me think about where I could put this.”

Her hand gripped his erection and she squeezed in random pulses, grinning with satisfaction at the sounds he made. She was having way too much fun with this.

“In my mouth, maybe? Or maybe not.”

“You—” He glared at her with all the heat he could muster, which was none, and received a giggle for his troubles. He wasn’t accustomed to being teased and strung along like this. At this point, though his relationship with his siblings had grown, even _they _wouldn’t push his buttons like this.

She was horrible. Terrible. The nerve. Any sane court of law would charge her with cruel and unusual punishment. He’d never been so turned on in his life.

And he knew this reaction had been what she wanted when she smirked, smirk widening to a nasty little smile when he stood up and yanked his pants and underwear off, nearly tripping over them in his mad rush to deposit them on the floor. He raked his eyes over her body, memorizing the soft curves of her form and the way she pressed soft dimples into the mattress beneath her.

“You’ve got a cute little freckle on your butt. Anyone ever tell you about it?” He narrowed his eyes again, returning to the mattress to hover over her. She took his hips in her hands, guiding him up, up until his pelvis fell parallel with her head. She reached up and gripped the shaft lightly with one hand, the other stroking each of his thighs in turn.

“People aren’t usually commenting on my body when I go about my daily business, no.”

“How wonderful it is to be a man. Hey, let me know when I’m doing it right, okay?” He nodded, and watched her lean in slowly, eyes locked on his as she opened her mouth and took him in. When the pressure came, he closed his eyes and bit his lip to keep from crying out.

Even his memories of how good she’d felt couldn’t compare to this, not by a long shot. He fell forward with a sigh, catching himself with one hand on the headboard while the other clung to the curve of her scalp, shifting his weight to his knees to avoid choking her if he slipped. Clenching his stomach hard to keep from thrusting, he watched as she dipped her head forward to take more of him in, mouth stopping at her knuckles, white-tipped where she gripped the base of him tightly.

Sensitive as he was from weeks of lonely passion, he wouldn’t dare ask her to slow down. He groaned directions to her under his breath, so far gone in the overwhelming sensations of hot and tight and wet that it was all he could do to bite out simple phrases, reduced to an animal seeking release.

“Mm. Not so fast. Slower. There. Harder. Go all the way—yeah, like that.”

Just the look in her eyes felt like enough to push him over the edge, the intimacy and lust he found there unbearable, terrifying, emotional. When she dragged a hand across her breasts and down to a tangle of pink curls, she closed her eyes and moaned around his length, pawing at herself with steady, sure rubs, and he thought he might pass out. He drew back until she released him from her mouth, saliva trailing in wet threads that fell across her chest.

“Inside me,” Sakura said, flipping over and presenting her backside unceremoniously.

Obediently, he gripped her hips and lined up with what was probably the right hole—_better check to make sure_—yes that _was_ the right hole, it matched up with the diagrams.

She squirmed at the nudge of his head against her entrance, and her whole body shuddered when he slowly pushed in. Fully inside, he waited a few moments for her to adjust. When she gave a nod over her shoulder he began to move, slowly at first, leaning to the side a bit to try and see her face, gage her reaction.

Sakura pressed the front of her body hard into the mattress, arching her back in a jagged tilt; the depth of this new angle pushed her moans an octave higher and her hand returned between her legs to help herself along. He slowed his thrusts and put his own hand between her legs, but she whacked his hand away.

“Faster.”

This time he did not oblige immediately, choosing instead to wait as she picked up the pace herself, pushing back against him and panting out a rhythm matched by her fingers. No matter what else happened between them, this he wanted to remember. All of the anxiety and headache from today, from the past several weeks, crumbled away at the sight of her pleasuring herself with his body, so lost in the haze of her own desire that for a moment he wondered if she forgot the dick she rode attached to a human being on the other end.

_“_Gaara_, please_,” she moaned, turning her head to the side and looking back at him with glassy eyes. He felt a jolt in his chest, not unlike the sensation of having his breath knocked out of him. In that moment, for that look, he might do anything she asked.

_Oh no._

He picked up the pace, feeling her muscles tighten around him as he moved. He felt the tension building up between his legs, not as intensely as when he was in her mouth, but steadily, each thrust sending him closer to climax. Sakura slowed, panting heavily, shaking at the elbow where she anchored herself one-armed to the bed, and he knew she had reached a point of fatigue. He took over thrusting altogether while she continued to focus on herself, her moans increasing in volume and frequency.

She came hard, burying her face into the sheets to muffle her cries and altering the gradient of her pelvis to undulate against his groin at uncontrolled slants. He felt a subtle tightness and a fluttering wave of tension for several seconds, and then it was over, and she nearly went limp underneath him. When she returned her other hand to brace herself, he could feel her lethargy and see her shivering from the effort of staying upright.

Nearing his own end, Gaara thrust against her roughly. Her cries softened to delicate whimpers and she’d turned her head to the side again, watching him with an expression so soft he almost stopped to take it in. He looked her in the eyes as he came with a low groan, driving into her again and again as he rode out the waves of sensation that just couldn’t possibly compare with what he’d been doing himself in the shower for the past few months. It was wonderful. It felt like coming home. 

* * *

Later, they talked. She turned her head slightly and regarded the man next to her, who had said nothing for the past twenty minutes, choosing instead to show his continued willingness to stay in her bed by gently stroking the thigh she’d slung across his hips.

It was easier to say what she wanted to say without looking at him, so that’s what she did. She apologized for her indirectness earlier, because she thought she ought to, and Gaara deflected, pointing out that he hadn’t exactly been forward himself. Both agreed that coming to terms with things upfront would make things easier in the future. And for what those “things” entailed…

She shifted to face him, and he did the same, keeping her leg propped up against his hip to anchor her position.

“Do you want to keep doing this?” She focused hard on the bridge of his nose to keep from looking away, determined at least to tackle this bit without wavering.

“Sleeping with you?”

“Well. Yes.” She reached for one of his hands and he accepted, linking his fingers with hers delicately. She felt a little surer now where she stood with him. Shockingly, having sex with him again had not cured her crush, but it had cured her physical hunger. The rest would go away with time. Probably. “I do want to keep seeing you like this. If that’s all right with you.”

He smiled, soft and just for her, and she thought she might cry.

“I’ll let you know whenever I’m headed this way, if I can. The Hokage won’t be upset?”

“I mean, I’ll have to tell her about this. I wouldn’t want her finding out from someone else. But I don’t mind this.”

“Good.” He kissed her forehead again, settling back down on the mattress.

“It’s just for fun, after all.” And at this, he stiffened, face turning sharply to meet hers.

“Just for—what do you mean?” She felt her blood run cold and swallowed nervously. _Okay, he didn’t like that. But he can’t think this is serious. This can’t _be_ serious. Right?_

“Um, you know. This isn’t serious or anything. We’re, uh, friends. We’re not even twenty. It’s not like we’re going to get married or anything, right?” He settled a little, but regrettably that unreadable, intense stare had made a comeback. _The friends with benefits cop-out? Really, bitch?_

“Is this something friends… normally do?”

“Sometimes.” She felt her arms itch to be folded defensively in front of her. Then, he appeared calm again. The hand went back to stroking her thigh.

“If you say so.” Did he sound unsure? No.

“Yeah.” _This is what I want, right? Just a few fun tumbles in bed and it’ll get out of my system. Out of both our systems. Then we’ll shake hands and go our separate ways. _Her body betrayed her once again when he shifted to press against her chest to chest, and she closed her eyes to listen to the way her heart pounded, to marvel at the way she wanted to cling to him so that he would never leave.

But then he was reaching for her again, and she couldn’t find the time or energy to worry about what it all meant. Hours later, she went to sleep in his arms sore and happy and awoke again just after dawn. She got up carefully and stretched, the ache in her legs and pelvis the only reminder of one of the strangest nights in her life.

As expected, Gaara had departed long before, probably to assure his attendants that he hadn’t befallen some terrible fate (or visited a terrible fate on someone else). Clothed and washed, Sakura walked halfway out her front door when she remembered.

“Oh, shit. The whisky!”

* * *

There would be hell to pay for this later, in the form of the most difficult training Tsunade’s hungover brain could concoct. But as Sakura stood in front of her Hokage’s desk, requested whisky in hand, uniform immaculate, and bowing in demure supplication, she couldn’t bring herself to give even one solitary shit.

“…”

“…”

“Sakura, you look like you’ve been fucked six ways to Sunday.”

“I always walk like this, Tsunade-shishou.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe these stupid idiots? Stay tuned for the next chapter which will feature the continued adventures of the stupid idiots. Will they or won't they have sex again? Spoiler alert: yes.
> 
> Comments fuel my rage and power my aquarium filters.
> 
> So part of the research for this chapter and others involved finding and reading an English translation of one of those official Naruto novels, the one in which we find out what Gaara got up to at the end of Shippuden. It is hilariously bad in so many ways (not the translation, but the story and content itself--the translator did a good job and did it all for free! Japanese to English is rough). I am planning on putting it in a Google doc and sharing a comment-only link to anyone who wants to pile on comments so we can all appreciate the garbage together. Let me know if you are interested in this happening.


	3. In This Chapter There is Deep[throat] Commentary on War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The alternate title for this work is Is It Still Slow Burn When They Fuck in Most of the Chapters but Like the Emotions Are the Slow Burn?

Tsunade found out first because Sakura had never been good about keeping her own secrets, and because _of course she did_.

“So _he’s_ the one you were sleeping with. I must admit, Sakura, I’m impressed. Just went straight for the top, huh? That’s my girl.”

“Tsunade-sama!”

“‘Cause I’m just saying, if you are, I’m sending you out to assist in the next round of trade negotiations once all this shit is over and done with. See if you can sway him into something a bit more favorable to us with a little afternoon delight.”

“I refuse to dignify that with a response.”

“Well, you’re the one who let Crazykage the Fifth spray paint your cervix.”

“Oh, _really_. How many have you had today?”

“Not as much as I need, that's for damn sure. _Please _tell me you’re using protection. War babies are so depressing.”

_“Tsunade-shishou.”_

* * *

Ino found out because Sakura told her in person. She felt like she owed the other girl that much. Plus, when Sakura remembered for the millionth time that she hadn’t daydreamt about Sasuke in ages, she thought Ino deserved to know the stakes had changed in their game.

In the end, though, it was Sakura who hadn’t been watching the board closely enough.

“Thanks for telling me, Forehead.”

“No big deal.” She’d found Ino at the medical library where they’d once bickered over healing fish together. These days, they rested easier around one another, their rivalry more for fun and show than anything too serious. It was hard not to like someone a lot more after you’d experienced heat stroke while wandering around in a desert together.

“You know,” Ino said, a sly sideways look on her face, “I’m really glad that you’re finally going after something because _you_ actually want it.”

Sakura’s hands stilled, the fish on which she’d been practicing a more advanced bone-healing technique forgotten. “What do you mean?”

“Well…?” Ino sat down on the steps leading to the dais in the treatment room, patting the stone next to her. Sakura removed her gloves and followed, wondering how long it had been since she and Ino had just hung out like this, no fighting or teamwork but simple, soft affection.

“It wasn’t too long ago that I thought about you and me… and Sasuke… We never really talked about it, yeah? I thought I had a crush on him, but the more I kept thinking, I never really noticed him that much until you did. I think now that it was just jealousy driving the way I acted toward him. It felt like he was taking you from me, and I couldn’t deal with that.”

“Ino…”

“And, take this however you want, it kind of seemed like you were into him because everyone else was. Like you thought it was something you had to do to make up for the other ways you couldn’t succeed.” Ino started, a blush rising on her neck as she waved her hand apologetically in front of her face.

“I mean, it’s not like that _now_, obviously. Anyone would be crazy to suggest that you’re not amazingly good at what you do. Regardless.” She cleared her throat. “You’re putting yourself out there for once, taking risks, and becoming your own woman. And if it took you smashing the Kazekage to do all that, then what the hell. And thanks again for telling me. You didn’t have to.”

“Thank you, Ino. I’ve really missed you. I’m glad we can talk like this, again.”

“Hey, don’t cry on this dress too hard. I’m going out tonight.”

“Sorry.” Sakura sniffed. “Hey, you know, Tsunade-shishou didn’t even care. I thought she would be mad at me.”

“Because it’s Gaara?”

“Because he’s from a rival village.”

“Sakura, please. She probably thinks this is the best thing that’s happened to our relations with Sand since… well, maybe ever. She’s probably thinking right now about how she can use your vagina to conduct negotiations.”

“Ughhhhhh she totally did. I don’t even want to talk about it.”

“Ha! Called it. Also I’m still right about you having a big, stupid crush on him. Foolish of me to even imagine you’d go for less than top shelf.”

“Nope, still not happening. No crush. If I did hypothetically have a crush it would go away, because I’m not about to fall in love with Gaara. We’re going to be like… friends with benefits.”

“Still dumb as ever, I see.”

They stilled, and Sakura relished the feel of Ino’s side pressing warmly into hers, the achingly familiar contact bolstering her to bring up what had also been on her mind for days.

“So what about Sasuke, then?”

“What about him?”

“I mean… you could go after him unchallenged if you want. I don’t even really think about him much these days, and when I do, I’m just sad instead of… pining.”

“Sakura, bless you, but I never needed your permission to get on that dick. Besides, I have had some revelations lately that suggest it wouldn’t have mattered either way.”

“Huh?”

“I slept with Shino just to get my first time out of the way and realized halfway through that I’ve probably been a lesbian this whole time.”

“Wow—that’s, wow. And Shino, really?”

“Yeah, turns out his whole clan is very matter-of-fact and open about casual sex. He was also very nice when I overshared about my burgeoning sexuality and cried all over him. Didn’t take it personally. I wish him all the best. But it explains a lot, you know?”

“Ino… I’m really proud of you.” Sakura took Ino’s hand and smiled when she felt an answering squeeze.

“I’m really proud of _us, _Forehead. Look at us, girl!”

“Look. At. Us.” 

* * *

As though committed to topping the list of People Who Reacted to My Sex Life in Ways I Did Not Anticipate, Naruto took the news with a surprising amount of gravity.

Then again, they were sitting on the edge of the large crater formerly known as Konoha, Tsunade was unconscious, Danzo openly grasped for power, and unpleasant news about their former teammate weighed down both their hearts. If there was going to be a time to take The Incident… and The Subsequent Incident(s) with gravity, it was going to be now.

Naruto leaned back on his palms and let out a long breath, staring up at the sky and craning his neck back and forth until the silence unnerved her enough to break it.

“Are you mad at me?”

“_Mad_ at you? I’m impressed, kinda. I know Gaara changed and all, but I can’t believe he got some before me. Man, that’s so unfair.” Naruto leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, hands dangling into a recently created hundred-foot drop. Sakura followed, resting her head against his shoulder.

“Huh,” Sakura said. She looked at Naruto, contentment warming her insides at his easy smile. “You know, I’m starting to feel bad that I’ve expected you all to have these terrible reactions. Maybe _I’m _the one who needs a talking to.”

“I have to take blondie’s side on this one.”

“Ino. Naruto, you _know_ her. Honestly.”

“Yeah, yeah, her. But it’s just like… You’re finally turning into your own person instead of being a copy of what you think everyone wants from you. I like it. I am also a little jealous, I must admit, but I’ll just take the piss out of ‘im until I get over it. I’m happy for both of you. Name your first kid after me, though.”

Sakura fell on her back and laughed. Naruto beamed in that effortless way only he could and fell alongside her, their heads and shoulders touching in comforting parallel. She thought about asking him how he was, what his plan was with Sasuke, what he thought about Tsunade’s case, but couldn’t bring herself to spoil his mood.

_Just let us have this for a few more minutes. Reality will catch up. It always does._

“You and Lee will have to fight for naming rights, I’m afraid.”

“Oh my god, you _told_ him? What’d he do, what’d he do?”

“Oh, you know Lee. He cried dramatically and swore that as my eternal champion he would ‘defend our blossoming love from any sandstorm that threatened to destroy the tender petals of our burgeoning romance, yea verily’ or some shit. We went on a couple dates a year back, you know. I got tired of him following me around and thought if I did something really gross during the date it would turn him off.”

Naruto’s head snapped around in horror. “_What_. Did you _do_.”

“Nothing!” She cackled at Naruto’s wide-eyed expression. “I couldn’t go through with it. It felt so mean. I ended up having a long talk with him and said I wasn’t interested in anything but friendship. And he wasn’t around Neji or Gai-sensei so he didn’t feel like he had to perform. Took it quite well, actually.” Naruto settled back down against her, and the next look he gave her hinted at devilry.

“So… what _are_ you two, then?”

“Me and Lee?”

“No, you and Gaara. Like, have you seen each other since he was here last?”

“Unfortunately not. We write now, though. I have to send my letters through Intelligence since they address a foreign leader and I have a position in the Hokage’s office, which is awkward, but he’s a surprisingly good conversationalist on paper. He doesn’t get all lovey-dovey or make dashing proclamations, but I wouldn’t expect him to. We’re not like that. It’s mostly stuff about his plants.”

“Plants?”

“Yeah. I guess he decided to get a hobby to replace his previous one of murdering everyone who looked at him funny.” Naruto made a choking sound. “He seems to enjoy me fussing over him, though. In one letter he mentioned getting a minor injury during his taijutsu training and I told him off about being more careful. Ever since then I get a rundown of every little ding he gets. Reminds me of you in the hospital begging me to feed you. Weirdo.”

“And,” Sakura continued after a lengthy pause, “I don’t know _what_ we are. He doesn’t like me that way, I’m pretty sure, and it’s not like I’m in love with him. I’m just taking things one step at a time. Sounds like we may get into another war soon. You have to enjoy what life you’re given, I guess.” She looked over at Naruto, searching his face. Though she would rather die than admit it to his face, his opinion meant a lot to her.

Naruto nodded slowly, but the gleam in his eye remained. “Yeah, that makes sense. Sooooo… how big is it?” He didn’t even try to dodge the whack.

“I am _not_ talking to you about Gaara’s penis, Naruto.” She grabbed on to his collar for easy access in case he tried to get fresh again. “If you want to see it, seduce him your damn self.”

“Sakuraaaaa,” he whined, cradling his head in his hands. “Come on. You know he’s got those creepy eye circles from his chakra matching the one-tailed tanuki or whatever the hell. I think. He told me after we rescued him, but I wasn’t listening good. It would make sense if his… you know…”

“It’s their _balls_ that are huge, not their cocks. Honestly, Naruto. You’re worse than Sai.”

“So they _are_ huge! Like how big, though; show me with your hands.”

She sat up to get more leverage on the backswing, but Naruto was already gone, hooting like a maniac about ‘knowing all along.’ Sakura collapsed on her back into a puddle of glee, one arm thrown across her face, hiding her smile. It was good to have him back.

* * *

Weeks passed, and events unfolded so rapidly that Sakura felt reduced to automation just to get by. Danzo became temporary Hokage. All five kage met at a summit where Sasuke appeared and tried to kill them all. Sasuke fought Danzo. Danzo died. Tsunade woke up, and told her apprentices war loomed over the horizon.

Sometimes none of it felt real, and Sakura worried for her mental stability, even though it felt selfish to think of herself while her village careened madly from one crisis to the next. The news about Sasuke had been the most upsetting. Gaara’s introduction into her life had sent her emotions into a tailspin, and one of Sakura’s biggest worries were her feelings for Sasuke. Was it okay for her to be in love with Sasuke and have a crush on Gaara? While she was (mostly?) sure Sasuke no longer occupied all of her romantic thoughts, she nonetheless worried for his sake.

More weeks passed. Tsunade traveled to Kumo to meet with the other kage to discuss the Akatsuki problem, and immediately after Naruto left as well to train god knew where. He at least came to find her before leaving this time, holding her hands and offering what they both knew were platitudes as she tried not to cry.

Tsunade cheered her up some later by informing Sakura (drunkenly) that her “hot piece of desert ass” was in good health and in as high spirits as “that dead-eyed bastard teenager” could possibly be. Sakura pined, berated herself for pining, and then pined some more. Ino rolled her eyes at Sakura a lot but remained steadfast and supportive. She also began casually dating Tenten, which offered Sakura ample distraction from her own problems.

And then, there was only a terrible, restless quiet.

Sakura spent much of her time in the hospital in a dustier corner of the medical stacks, putting together medical field kits to be worn and used by their active duty ninja. She worked in a trance, on one day putting together 27 kits before realizing she’d forgotten to put disinfectant wipes in all of them.

On other days she would come to in the middle of working, catching herself staring at dust motes swirling in the sterile lighting she’d never been fond of.

Sometimes she trained civilians in a program which had been her idea. They may not have been able to use chakra to heal, but they could learn basic things: how to set a broken limb, how to clean and stitch a wound. She threw herself into her work without mercy, shutting down and out all the traitorous parts of her that wanted to shrink away and hide.

She wondered what Gaara was doing. She hadn’t had time to write for the past two weeks, but he must have understood. He would be busy preparing his own ninja for the conflict ahead, and of course he wouldn’t have prioritized a meaningless fling.

She didn’t have to wait long. A small, bad-tempered falcon made its way to the hospital one day, bearing a small note with familiar handwriting: _Summit adjourned. Arriving in Konoha 2 days._ Underneath the brief message a number had been written using a different color pen, a number she knew corresponded with one of the nicer apartments near the center of town, where the more illustrious visitors bedded down.

It was easy enough to excuse herself from work early; the chief nursing officer looked a bit relieved for Sakura’s sake, and not unkindly chided Sakura that it was important to take care of herself. Sakura went straight to the Yamanaka’s refurbished flower shop—for the most part, the rebuilding looked the same as pre-cratered Konoha, just… more down. There she found Ino, who was already out of her apron and ready for action before Sakura even reached the counter.

“All right, Forehead. How much time do we have?” 

Two days later, Sakura made her way to the fancy apartments with a new dress on, hair in a tight chignon, light makeup, and underwear that matched but wasn’t _too_ sexy. After some deliberation, she elected not to shave her pubic hair; Ino had declared it a waste of time that only resulted in itchy, ingrown hairs. Ino had also given Sakura a long look and asked why she was putting so much effort into a relationship that was “just for fun,” to which Sakura responded that it was for _her own sake, _obviously, and Ino had muttered something about not saying I told you so as she sent Sakura out the door.

The way to the apartments had been mostly uneventful except for the shinobi in the intelligence office who reminded her for the third time that she did not have clearance to receive direct messages from foreign powers. In front of the door, she took a moment to collect herself. She lifted a fist, took a calming breath, and knocked once.

She’d seen Gaara earlier, of course. Once again, the Hokage had sent her lowly apprentice on Kazekage gate-retrieval duty, and this time she greeted Gaara warmly, captivated by the faint signs of his recognition: a quick brightening of the eyes when he saw her, and a small smile when she took his hand briefly to welcome him back to her village. His siblings said nothing but did exchange Meaningful Looks, which Sakura ignored.

Gaara spent the day discussing border fortifications and tactics with the Hokage, and Sakura sorted scrolls in the office library and pretended not to eavesdrop on them through the vent.

And now she was here, waiting to be let in. When he opened the door, she walked without hesitation into his arms. They made half-hearted attempts at small talk for ten minutes before their impatience got the better of them, and they stumbled backwards into his room leaving a trail of clothing in their wake.

She knew all her worries would return the next day; sex was not a bandage she could apply to her woes, and her growing affection for him still troubled her, as much as she convinced Ino otherwise. She forced herself not to over-analyze his treatment of her for signs of reciprocation, intent on believing that she exerted some measure of control of her feelings.

So for now, it was enough for her to run her hands up and down his back as he hovered over her. She could pull him down flush to her body to kiss to the rhythm of their lovemaking. Here, she felt frozen in time. There was no war. She dug her nails into his shoulder and implored him to move _faster, harder_. There was no Sasuke leaving a trail of chaos and pain everywhere he went. _Don’t stop_. Naruto was here and he was _not_ training, and he had _never_ left her. _Please don’t stop_. She hadn’t spent the last week crying in the bathroom at the end of all her rounds, overwhelmed by fears she couldn’t even name _don’t stop Gaara please don’t_

* * *

They couldn’t see one another regularly, but as summer gave gently to fall and the world held its breath and prepared, they made time here and there where they could. Sakura wished she could contribute this change to her and Gaara’s evolution as a Power [Friends with Benefits] Couple, but the truth was much simpler: they didn’t have _time_ for games or coyness or drama.

Sometimes they would sleep together in his diplomatic suite, sometimes she coaxed him into sneaking in her bedroom window when he got done with talks. Sometimes he brought little presents. Sakura was now the proud owner of seven tiny cactuses and one aloe vera plant. She was able to keep them alive, more or less, except for one particularly stubborn cactus that almost died when she watered it on Friday instead of Saturday. It was nearly normal, and she allowed herself to relax. A little.

But… Their coupling held tension for her, felt too much like desperation and not enough like two young adults enjoying a rousing session of sexual congress. It had been enough, in peacetime, for her to tell herself that this could mean nothing for them both, but as international pressure rose, she could no longer convince herself of her detachment.

She held him as long as she could, after, but he always left her in the end, just like he was supposed to. Apparently, he still didn’t sleep much, and he spent his extra hours working, as dedicated to serving his nation as his nation was dedicating to taking advantage of him.

But a little part of her also wondered if he didn’t stay longer because, in a way, she’d told him not to. Ino held her on the days when she cried simply from not knowing the right thing to do to make it all okay, and her teasing of Sakura’s little fling mercifully disappeared.

And so, her connection with the Kazekage became predictable, became clockwork: they had sex, she held him until he softened, she made him promise to be careful, and he drew away. The relaxed expression he now wore around her always shifted back into an empty, forced calm at the end. She thought maybe it was better this way; in a time of such uncertainty, they could at least be sure of what to expect from one another. Even if it did make her a little sad.

Nevertheless, she always looked forward to days when he was in town. Sometimes she pretended she was a normal teenager going on normal dates with her normal boyfriend, and that was fun.

Though, she wasn’t sure how someone like Gaara would take to being labeled “boyfriend” and both of them were far from normal. Nevertheless, the more time she spent with Gaara the more she saw what many people missed. It was easy to see an overpowered, untouchable beast, once terrifying and now merely tamed, when the closest you got to Gaara was an arm’s length away.

Having had the opportunity to slip in closer, he became less foreign at each visit. He was still socially awkward, shy, and frequently confused by convention, but he was also thoughtful, steadfast, and complex. And kind. Every time she learned something new about him, she felt like a kid doing a scavenger hunt.

He remained stoic most of the time, but she was beginning to better read his little head tilts and subtle facial expressions. She also became an expert at getting him talking if she felt he was too quiet. If she _really_ wanted to see him get wild, all she had to do was ask if he’d gotten his barrel cactuses to bloom yet. She also knew that he did not like sherbet, refused to drink alcohol, and that when her back was turned, he’d click her thermostat down by 5 degrees.

The world kept on turning. More weeks passed. Sakura made more field kits. Her energy bill increased slightly.

And when the war finally arrived, all Sakura could think was, _Finally._

* * *

He found her in a tent at the medical camp serving the Fourth Division, right where he’d hoped she’d be. Idly, he wondered if Shizune—as head of the Logistical Support and Medical Division—had pulled some strings on Sakura’s behalf, to make it work out this way.

People parted around him as he strode, a reaction he’d gotten used to as a child that now bothered him slightly. Today, though, he was grateful for the isolation. He knew there were only a few hours to go before the allied army went on the move. He also knew exactly where he wanted to spend them.

“—and make _sure_ you take one every twelve hours, all right? Keep the pills on your person in case you get stuck out in the field longer than you think you will.”

And there she was, so much better in person than she ever was in his memories. Sakura Haruno stood, hands on hips, in the opening of her tent, encased in the drab colors of standard-issue uniform, her hair up and secured at the back of her head. He didn’t recognize the man receiving her scolding.

After the injured shinobi left, Gaara stepped out of the shadows where he’d been quietly waiting. When she saw him, her eyes squinted with a true smile, and Gaara felt a small warm glow in the pit of his stomach.

It was wonderful, being wanted by others.

“Gaara! I was wondering if I’d see you before tomorrow.” She met him in the threshold and took his hand, pulling him inside and releasing the catch keeping the tent’s flap door open. At his curious look, she colored a little. “I um… I let a few other medics know I might be meeting up with someone important to me. They know to cover my walk-ins for me. It was very nice of them.”

She took off her flak jacket and released her hair. It was starting to get a bit long, he noticed. She played with it sometimes when she was anxious. She played with it now. Nerves did nothing to dampen her chattering, however, but he was content to sit and listen.

Everyone these days came to him with bad news and grave proclamations. It was nice to sit here and let her words clamber over him, so he listened and offered supportive statements whenever she paused.

“And,” she continued, “we could have time for something quick. Everyone’s been doing it around here, I swear. There’s going to be so many babies in nine months. And probably some STI epidemics. I’d be on the lookout for that in Sand if I were you. I really didn’t put as many condoms in those field kits as I should have.”

“I’ll be sure to let the hospital know.” She nodded approvingly at him, and he relaxed a bit more, happy to be saying all the right things for her. He noticed that the aloe plant he’d given her, which she’d taken to calling Colonel Sexpot, sat in a place of honor next to her pillow.

She procured two cups from somewhere underneath the table and poured some water, setting his cup in front of him. “Sorry I don’t have anything nicer for us. Some asshole pilfered my tea stash sometime this afternoon. Can you believe that?”

“I cannot believe that.”

She walked toward the opposite corner of the tent to a cot strewn with blankets, what he assumed was her bed. Grasping with crossed hands, she pulled off her long-sleeved shirt over her head in one go, revealing an extremely supportive and sensible sports bra underneath. The rejected shirt landed on the rumpled blankets in a heap, and she returned to where he sat, taking the chair next to him and scooting closer until their knees touched.

“And then,” she went on, “some guy from Mist comes in complaining about his stitches hurting. I did a quick chakra scan and found some obstructions, which turned out to be three lap sponges some idiot left in his abdomen during surgery.

“They’ve got little chakra-sensitive tags on them that pulse so you can find them if your post-op scan turns up anomalies. But god, this is why we have circulating nurses count that shit. How can you miss three whole-ass lap sponges? I don’t know who is training field medics in Lightning, but they need to be fired. Isn’t that crazy?”

“Very.”

“And don’t get me started on what I _just_ got back from. Some civilian with a newborn found our camp and asked for our help. She turned out to be pre-eclamptic antepartum and was looking for someone to continue her treatment since all the local healers had run off as soon as they saw us making camp.

“Wrote her an order for magnesium sulfate and _thought _everything was good to go since it was people _I_ helped train setting up the drip.” She sighed deeply. “Walked by ten minutes later and the lady’s got two bags of mag-sulfate hung and one already empty. By the time I took over she was in respiratory depression and we had to pull in five other medics to help stabilize her. ‘I thought it would save time if she got it faster.’ So embarrassing. Don’t you think?”

“Yes.” He sipped at his water. It was stale and tasted like the inside of a new canteen. Sakura reached over and placed her hand on his forearm where it rested on the table. He placed his other hand on top of hers and squeezed, relishing in the way she looked down and smiled at their connection.

“Thanks for listening to me complain. I hope I’m not taking you away from something important. I’m not bothering you, am I?” 

“It’s nothing. I—" There was the sound of a burlap flap being pulled back, and a head poked in, interrupting Gaara, who turned calmly toward the sound, and startling Sakura, who jumped, jerked her hand back, and turned bright red. 

“Excuse me, Miss Sa—oh.” The man, an Iwa nin by the colors, stood in the divide between the outer wall of the tent and an inner wall created from the overlap. His hand remained suspended in the air while the flap, now set free, dropped back into place. There were several brief moments in which no one knew what to do. Then everyone spoke all at once.

“Um—”

“Oh, Commander, I didn’t expect—”

“Is there something wrong—”

Their words crashed into one another and fell limply to the floor. Sakura regained control first. She stood up so fast her chair almost fell back and walked toward the man, who Gaara now had the presence of mind to notice had been bandaged thoroughly. He hoped he wasn’t supposed to remember who in the hell this person was.

“I’m sorry, uh…”

“Morio, miss.”

“Yes. Morio. How is… your arm?” She set a glowing hand on his arm, eyes widening when the man took a step back. The Iwa nin’s face burned beet-red, and Gaara noticed that even when he stood up from his chair as well, the man studiously avoided looking in his direction. Curious. Was he a spy, perhaps? One could never be too careful what with the enemy’s proclivity for using allied appearances against them.

“It’s fine! It’s fine, Miss Sakura. I only came by to give you this—well, not anymore—I can see that you’re obviously, um, very satisfied with your current status—”

“My status?”

“I, uh—” And here the nin began to slowly retreat out of the tent, one hand up in a placating gesture. “I wanted to give you this—” a small, sealed envelope was brandished and just as quickly stowed away—“but it looks like you’re already… occupied. With someone else.”

“Oh. _Oh.”_ For reasons that completely escaped him, Sakura at once appeared understanding, an empathetic smile softening her expression, the blush from earlier starting to abate. “Yes. Well, I’m glad you understand. Sorry.”

“Oh, you don’t have to be sorry, Miss Sakura. Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to go and… burn this.”

Sakura raised both hands to her mouth, hiding a little smile Gaara knew was underneath, though he hadn’t the faintest idea why. She’d made the same face at him enough times that he knew Sakura was gracefully excusing a social gaffe. But for what reason, Gaara was completely clueless. Though he was proud of himself for what strides in domestication he’d made in the past few years, some of the subtler aspects of human interaction still escaped him.

The Iwa nin, his errand evidently completed, made a one-eighty and marched himself back out of the tent in an obvious retreat. Sakura began to make breathy, choking sounds, and he almost thought she was crying until her hands dropped and she burst out laughing, stumbling to her cot and falling back, holding her stomach as she rocked back and forth.

“Oh no,” she said, sitting up and wiping away a tear. “That poor guy. I wonder how long it took him to get the courage to come in here.”

Gaara, still concerned at the sudden entrance and bizarre behavior, could only stare back into her twinkling eyes. A beat, and then she reached a hand out to him. Obediently, he advanced to her beckoning, allowing her to pull him down until he sat on the cot’s edge with her. She lay down again, legs hanging over the lip of what could barely be named a mattress and pulled him flush against her side. When he looked into her eyes, he saw affection, want, and no small amount of good humor. 

“That guy had a love letter for me, I bet. That’s probably what was in the envelope.” He blinked. Was _that_ what it had been about?

“But… why?” She wrinkled her nose at him and gently poked his at the tip.

“Oh, Gaara. There’s a war coming. And there’s so many young men out there; young, dumb, and full of cum. And they give me love letters because I heal them and I’m pretty and some of them are a little high from the painkillers. I’ve got like fifteen marriage proposals so far. One guy said he’d buy me an island after the war was over.”

Now it was Gaara’s turn to wrinkle his nose. And not get jealous. He did not _do _jealousy over petty things like relationships. Or—no, for a friend he had benefits with. Not a girlfriend. But he could see in her face that she already knew he felt it. And she was… pleased? She looked up at him with half-lidded eyes and a satisfied smile. How strange.

“Gaara, when are _you _going to buy me an island? After all, here I am… ravished… ruined… Why I can hardly go out of doors now that everyone knows that my purity has been tarnished.” She threw her arm over her face in melodramatic despondency.

“I don’t have any islands to give you.”

“Buy one, then.”

“I’m not buying an island just so you can have one, Sakura. Sand doesn’t have the funds for that.”

“No discretionary island fund? I thought all the bad boys had one of those.”

“I’m afraid I must disappoint you.”

“Well in that case, it’s been great knowing you, but I’m afraid I must move on to greener pastures. I bet that Iwa guy would give me some head if I ask nicely.”

She managed to shift her weight to one leg in preparation to stand before Gaara snatched her by the waist and yanked her prone against him, feeling in the pull of her muscles that she’d expected that reaction, and had let him.

“You could just get it from me instead, and ask any way you like,” he growled up at her, feeling his frustrated arousal routing his brain cells bit by bit.

“Oh? I was hoping I could get you to beg for it first.” She shifted gently and he felt the slide of her pants and undergarments as they made their way to the tent floor.

Impatient, he removed his own clothing and, with a sharp hand gesture, made a discreet sand barrier at the flap of the tent. Well, as discreet as a block of sand shaped like a door could be. At least then he’d be spared the sight of her numerous admirers.

He wasn’t jealous. He had no right to be, since they weren’t in a proper relationship. The admirers were just… inconvenient. He was annoyed that their attentions were not fully on preparing for combat. That was all.

He saved himself from coming up with some witty response by kissing her—it _was_ tremendously unfair how she seemed to get cleverer the more worked up she got, and he forgot how to do simple math after half a handjob. Sometimes he let his body do the talking when the words retreated further into safe territory.

As his mouth worked against hers, he maneuvered the two of them into standing position. She wrenched the sensible bra off and threw it off into a corner, revealing her soft, lovely breasts and an uncomfortable-looking indentation where the bottom hem had been.

“Yeah,” Sakura said, misreading his hungry stare. “I got one a size too small. It’s been pinching like a bitch all day and making me lightheaded. I kept thinking I needed to switch out, but it’s been go, go, go since dawn.”

He looked her in the eyes again, long enough for her to start fidgeting, and he slowly descended to his knees in front of her, leaving a line of kisses from her forehead to her stomach. When she inhaled sharply and buried both hands in his hair in anticipation, he kissed her slowly on each hipbone, dragging his tongue across her skin in the space between.

“I think,” he said, “I’d much rather hear you beg for it instead.” The hands in his hair gripped tighter almost to the point of pain. Idly, he wondered what his mother’s sand would do if she scratched his back up with angry red lines. It would mind its own damn business, hopefully. Then again, it might send an important message to any potential paramours. If he strategized well enough, he could find out for sure either way in a few minutes.

He heard Sakura drew breath to speak but nothing came out except a high-pitched whine as Gaara drew his tongue slowly over what parts of her folds he could reach, ending in slow, torturous circles around the tight bud of nerves he’d learned to be careful with.

_Slow, not too much direct stimulation, a lot of moisture. _Some of the Icha Icha books _had_ turned out to have real nuggets of wisdom in them, which he was getting better at extracting by the day.

Some tricks he’d managed to tease out by trial and error. He looked up at her to see her watching him, watching his mouth with anticipation and moaning softly as she watched his tongue move in and out and around. He wanted to say something, something that would drive her wild, something that would make her blush, something to make her lo—no, not that.

Well, he always had been a man of action, anyway.

One of his hands left her hips to pull back a lip covered in tiny pink curls, and he sealed his mouth on her mons pubis, applying gentle suction and a swirling motion with his tongue that he knew produced the most interesting sounds from her.

One of her hands left his hair and snapped up to her mouth in a vain attempt to stifle her moans, though with all the frenzied humping that this camp had apparently seen already, he wondered why she even bothered.

In any case, he planned to make sure every interested, horny idiot heard her all the way in Camp 1 by the time he was done. And also, Lee and Naruto. Just in case.

He pulled away, satisfied by her sounds of protest, and pulled the backs of her knees forward until she fell onto her shapely rear with a huff. Her face was red and covered in a thin sheen of sweat already, and she appeared to be trying not to pant.

He paused a moment to appreciate the sight before dipping his head down between her legs to recommence his previous mission. He worked his mouth against her straining body, following the motions of her hips as she set her pace, listening to the crescendo of her cries as proof of his success.

He inserted a finger into her experimentally and was pleased when she began to wail, her keens punctuated by sobs when he rubbed her inner walls. She’d reset one of her hands to gripping his hair; the other felt around for her abandoned shirt, which she grabbed and began to smack him weakly with, threatening him with death and torture should he stop before she came. With experience, he understood this to be a good thing. For some reason, she only threatened to murder him when he was doing a _really_ good job.

Distracted to pause by pleasant thoughts of Sakura attempting to kill him, Gaara was unprepared for Sakura to clench her legs around his torso and flip them over, her folded legs coming to rest on either side of his face. The flushed, red heat of her arousal hovered above his face and he looked up at her. Her expression was wild, hair damp and askew, flush melted down from her face to the top of her breasts. This was new.

“Men,” she huffed. “Can’t finish a girl off even when threatened with death itself.”

Her thighs shook with exertion as she found her rhythm against his mouth again, eyes screwed shut and mouth open, upper body curved backward in ecstasy, a cascade of high-pitched whines and moans falling out unhindered by her palms. Gaara grabbed her ass with both hands and held on for dear life.

He knew she’d reached a breaking point when she fell forward, bracing one hand on his head and the other on the edge of the cot. She opened her eyes as she came, moans wanton and loud, pulling his hair to the point where he had to call the sand off repeatedly. It gave up after several seconds and resolved to hover around them, gossamer-thin tendrils pulsating wildly.

He waited patiently for Sakura to come down, watching her force breaths in and out through her nose to calm her racing heartbeat. He knew she liked to take her time after and so didn’t rush her, helping her lift her hips as she carefully moved to the side. The painful ache in his groin challenged his patience with gnawing hunger and want and _need_, but he chose the patience and waited for a sign to continue.

She clung to him for one minute, two, and then she turned her head, catching his lips with hers in a slow, lazy kiss as she reached for his erection with a free hand. He was so hard that he flinched when she began to stroke him, the time he’d spent lost in the apex of her thighs setting his nerves on overdrive.

Rising on shaky legs, she led him onto her cot, shifting to settle beneath him. She watched silently as he positioned himself over her, and he guided himself into her with one smooth motion. Soft hands reached for him, one for his face and the other for his hand, fingers entwined. Their gazes locked and he came shortly after. She was crying now, silent tears dampening her pillow.

Platitudes would not serve him well here and so he offered none. He kissed her on the cheek, tucked her blanket around her like a child, dressed, and left the tent. No less than twenty-five shinobi of various rank and file in a fifty-foot radius around Sakura’s tent resumed looking extremely busy. Right now, he wouldn’t have cared if they’d all come in to watch. Let them eavesdrop. Let them whisper. He would still have this, in the end. Whatever it meant to him, and whatever it had meant to her.

The next time Gaara went to Sakura, he brought with him Naruto, bleeding out and dying from a hole in his abdomen where Kurama had been ripped out. She sank her hand in Naruto’s chest and screamed at her friend to keep on living, not to leave his dreams behind, his precious people.

Her other hand, soaked in a dying man’s blood, found his and he gripped it hard as he flew the three of them to Naruto’s father, hoping against reason for a miracle. He wondered then if he might love her, but he said nothing. Not to her, or anyone. What good would it do? For all the changes he’d made, he still wasn’t sure what love felt like. And she had been clear in her desire not to pursue a romantic relationship with them. Friends, only friends.

He’d always wanted more friends.

When the genjutsu took him, he dreamt for the first time in his life. He dreamt of loving parents, of a boy with straw-colored hair calling him to play.

But there was more than that. There was a pink-haired woman scolding him for working too late again, lying under the desert’s night sky with him and getting her constellations mixed up on purpose to make him sigh with exasperation, laughing beneath him with green eyes sparkling and limbs tangled in his on expensive sheets—it was almost painful to wake up. When he came to, his hand found his chest in a ghostly mime of a boy’s pain, but he thought—_Yes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RE: Gaara and Sakura, I'm diagnosing both of these idiots with Dumb Bitch Disease. Here are two shining examples to reinforce the separation of Intelligence and Wisdom in tabletop gaming.
> 
> Please rate the pain that I have caused you by making you read this fanfiction on a scale from Boruto Canon to Naruto Fanon. I shouldn't have to tell anyone which is the Bad End. It's for science.
> 
> 1 comment = 1 pet for each of my cats
> 
> Gimme that VALIDATION babey


	4. In This Chapter I Worldbuild Suna into Accepting All the Genders

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone tops in Naruto except Kakashi and Sasuke; it’s just a fact.
> 
> Also there is a special, extra nice afterlife for people who comment on all/most of the chapters. I hope you all enjoy it when you get there. It includes [your favorite things]. Even if it's just a keyboard smash, it means a lot to me. #internetvalidationbestvalidation 
> 
> Please enjoy your regularly scheduled porn. This chapter is especially horny because I use forbidden words like "vulva."

It was unsettling, Sakura decided, to meet with the Kazekage and his council immediately after waking from an incredibly vivid wet dream.

A wet dream starring the Kazekage. Fucking her. In this very same meeting room. Over the table.

_Into _the table, even.

“Miss Sakura?” One of the elders. Sonora? Sonria? Satya? Sayuri. _Pay attention, goddammit! _

“Yes?” Her voice came out a little too high pitched. Too quickly. Across the table Gaara tilted his head at her, hiding his expression in elegantly folded hands propped up by his elbows. He had the look of a housecat, satiated to excess but nonetheless compelled to devour small, trembling things.

No, wait, he was being totally normal. That was the wet dream talking.

“Excuse me. Yes. You’ll have to forgive me; I’m still a bit tired from the journey here.”

_A soft rustle of sand is all the warning he ever gives her here. In Konoha he stood apart from her, distant and polite, waiting until he had her behind closed doors to even reach for her hand. But here he shows absolutely no hesitation in cornering her at every opportunity, telling her what she does to him with his hands and mouth and teeth when his words fail him. There was no end of cool, dark places in Suna’s hospital, in the labs, in her diplomatic suite, and he knew them all like the back of his hand. _

“Oh, of course, we understand. You’re still quite young, Miss Sakura. But I daresay you’ve been making great strides since you arrived with us. You’ve practically gone native.” The elders chuckled and Sakura tried not to sigh. Who was this one again? Her head was swimming.

_Notes, look at your notes. Do _not_ look at Gaara—goddammit, I’m looking at him again. Why is he even here? It’s not like he—well, he does sort of run the place._

“I quite agree. Why, my tribe has expressed great interest in a personal visit from you in our ancestral lands. We’d love to have you learn some birthing techniques from our midwives. You’ll find the Hoki tribe is quite advanced in more natural forms of medicine. We find ourselves unimpressed with many of the modern chakra techniques created by Tsunade of the Senju. What _will _you do when you’ve all forgotten your roots? I digress. It’s quite _generous_ of your Hokage to let you away for so long. But of course, if you don’t have anyone waiting for you back in the Hidden Leaf, well, it’s surely not _that_ taxing for you.”

_He presses her torso into the surface of the table with a firm hand set between her shoulder blades. She tries to turn her head over her shoulder in order to make a snappish comment about his self-control and moans instead when his fingers curl into the back of her hair the way she likes, pink strands pulled taught almost to the point of pain, holding her rigid in place. The palm on her back travels circuitously downward, shoves her dress up, and plunges into her shorts where strong, sure fingers find her clitoris. She’s already so wet that she can feel the basement air chilling her wet, exposed skin. He bites her shoulder, just enough to leave a mark. His fingers hover around her vulva_ _, teasing her with tugs to her pubic hair that electrify her. She burns with need. She burns—_

“Yes.” She cleared her throat, shifting in her chair and sitting up a bit straighter. Folders and binders and loose paper float on the table in front of her. What were they for again?

Temari and Kankuro glanced at one another, as did several of the elders. It occurred to Sakura that the appropriate internal dialogue ruminating on these exchanges was not “do they know I’m fucking him” but rather “how much do they know about me fucking him” and “what are they planning to do about it.”

“Kakashi-sen—the Hokage was very generous. Now that Tsunade-shishou is back to running the hospital again, I have a lot more time to pursue my personal projects. I became a poison specialist through my training, but I have a passion for obstetrics and gynecology.

“Women’s health and welfare is just so critical to any society, and a lot of that is tied to things like family planning and good prenatal care, as well as access to family services once children are born. Though, I understand some of the tribes traditionally observe more than two genders, so I have a lot to learn still about how families look here.”

“Of course, of course. You’ve seen, then, how different Suna is in such ways. From what we understand, many kunoichi in the Land of Fire are expected to settle down and raise children at a young age. It’s not as much of a factor here when we have kept the old traditions of extended families all living together. There is much less burden on lone women that way, you see. We also tend to wait longer before taking on pregnancy. Why, if _you_ lived here, we certainly wouldn’t expect you to start having children until at least your mid-twenties. Hypothetically speaking, of course.”

_“How long have you been wanting it this time?”_

_She begins to shake. Her back presses against his chest and he pushes his hips forward, pushing his erection up against her ass. The fingers dip closer. She’s too far gone to feel ashamed when she sobs out an answer, when she begs him, when she grinds her pelvis against his hand as hard as she can, his wicked laugh in her ear as his fingers penetrate her sopping wet heat._

_“You’ve been thinking about this all morning, haven’t you? Dropping all those pens in front of me. Even my patience has a limit.”_

Sakura clenched her teeth, naming all the bones in the human ear until she could speak freely without tearing her hair out and screaming. She imagined holding down each elder in turn with one fist, beating answers out of them with the other: _What do you know about me and Gaara, huh? You want me to stay here forever, is that it? Produce the next generation of weird-ass sand demon babies? I’m not falling in love with him! You old fucks trying to distract me from this nation’s corrupt medical hierarchy with cultural dick-measuring contests? I’ll end you._

_Smile_, she thought to herself. _Draw in flies with honey._

“Yes,” Sakura continued, ever professional. “Elder…Natsumi took me to visit her tribal family’s vacation home at the oasis this morning. It was a good start to my first full day here. I’m excited to visit more isolated rural locations, as well. I need to understand more of Suna’s culture if I’m going to successfully integrate new techniques into the community.”

_When he finally enters her, she’s glad her face is held away so he can’t see the way she goes cross-eyed in delirious pleasure. The hot, heavy weight of him fills her completely, and she presses her thighs together to keep him from going in too deep until she’s ready._

_“Hard,” she says. He squeezes her hip once to acknowledge her request and begins to move. She can feel every thrust sending shockwaves up her body, his length hitting deep when he’s in to the base. It’s almost too much, this pleasure that almost feels like pain, and his hand releases her hip to work between her legs, fingers slick with spit. She feels the coil of her orgasm begin to curl deep in her belly. When she thinks she’ll die if she doesn’t come, he pulls away, laughing at the sound of betrayal she makes._

_“Don’t want to be late to your meeting, medic.”_

Across the table, Gaara lowered his hands from his impassive face, and the languorous way he drummed his fingers reminded her that in many ways, he was still a hunter.

* * *

She spent the rest of the afternoon decidedly avoiding him, angry at the elders’ meddling in her relationship and still a bit loopy from her vivid dream. On top of that, despite a good long period of post-war high in which her arrangement with Gaara did not have the time or space to bother her, it _had_ started to bother her again not one year after ceasefire. Finding out about the trip here had been what set the whole thing off.

Sakura had started feeling anxious about her journey to Suna the moment she heard about the opportunity. She originally chalked this up to generic pre-mission jitters, or even brand-name pre-long-term-mission jitters. But as she began to pack and prepare, she’d felt increasingly more unsettled in ways that felt wrong and yet familiar. _We know this, _her body said. _It’s something to do with Him, _her heart told her.

They weren’t the same anxious but happy nerves she felt when she knew Gaara was on his way to the Leaf. They weren’t the same guilty nerves she’d felt avoiding Sasuke after he finally returned home. They were similar, but not the same.

This had felt more like… well, dread, honestly.

Back at the hospital, she retreated into a supply closet to think for a bit, using an upturned bucket as a seat. The hospital staff allowed this without comment. You could get away with a lot of strategic slacking off when you earned a reputation as a hard worker.

Once she’d settled into Bucket Meditation Mode, Sakura went back over her memory of the night before she left for her mission. She’d been with Ino at a little cocktail bar that had emerged, phoenix-like, from the ashes of the village to provide fruity drinks and liquid experimentations with increasingly bizarre garnishes.

Ino had asked Sakura about her mission and how excited she was by the opportunity, but the conversation soon turned, as it often did, to, Sakura’s love life. Usually, Sakura was more than happy to share entirely too much information with Ino. That night, she’d clammed up and stared at her drink, shocked into silence by the pang of upset that’d came out of nowhere as soon as Ino mentioned _his_ name.

After she promised Ino that Gaara himself hadn’t done anything, the other girl began picking at Sakura’s mind with the same proficiency she used in any interrogation room. Ino assumed at first, and Sakura considered as a possible root cause, that Gaara’s performance in bed was to blame.

_“Does he make you feel good? Does he drive you crazy? Or is it just always boring and the same old thing?”_

_“Well, it’s not boring, but—”_

_“But? Is he too rough?”_

Truth was, Gaara performed gently in bed. She’d been a little shocked by this revelation, and then a bit ashamed of her assumption. It wasn’t _bad_ sex. He was enthusiastic. A quick learner. Eager to please. There were probably a lot of people out there who would _kill_ for what she had. But, he’d been nothing but careful and slow and tender, and seemed mystified when she asked for anything else.

He’d looked _so confused_ the first time she asked him to tie her to a bed, something she assumed was entry-level kink at best. The morning after had been awkward as hell. So, she stopped asking him to get rough and resumed the status quo. But ever since then, Sakura got lost in her head more than usual. This manifested in wild and wacky forays into daydream territory, in which she alternated between armchair psychoanalyzing his behavior and fantasizing about him doing her dirty in a dimly lit single-stall tavern bathroom. 

_Ino nodded slowly. “Okay, then what’s the problem? It can’t be Sasuke; that ship has already sailed.” She stole another sip of Sakura’s martini. Sakura allowed this travesty to occur unchallenged, having long ago surrendered any illusions of having her entire drink when Ino was around. “For the record, I still think the problem is that you’re still not over your crush on him, and you’re afraid of pushing the boundaries.”_

_Sakura looked down at her hands._

_“But… that can’t be it.”_

_“Oh, Sakura. Can we just get over this ‘it’s Gaara’ thing? He’s already shown you, and everyone else, what kind of person he can be. Just admit you misjudged him and move on. I’d kind of hate it if the person I was dating was in a constant state of shock that I acted like a human being, you know?”_

_Her eyes began to sting. But she _couldn’t _be in love with him. It wouldn’t work. Why did all the men she ever wanted have to be so unreachable?_

_“I don’t know what to do. If I go there… it’s not like here, where I can hide. If I go there, what if everything comes out?”_

_“Which is what?”_

_“I don’t even know, Pig. I haven’t let myself think about it, because I don’t think it’s meant to be.”_

_“Hey, come on. Temari has that thing with Shikamaru. I think some girl from Lightning is horny for Choji. Take advantage of the political good-will and take some risks. You’ll never know if it won’t work until it doesn’t work. But to find that out you have to try, first.”_

_“What if he doesn’t want me back?”_

_“Well,” Ino shrugged. “Then you’ll know. You’ll know for sure. And if it doesn’t work out, you can come back here, and we will get _so _wasted about it.”_

_“Okay, okay. I can do this.”_

_“Admit it to me first. Get it out there into the world.”_

_“I… definitely still have a crush on Gaara. I might like him… a lot. I might love him… a little.”_

_Ino reached out and clasped Sakura’s hands over the table. “Do yourself a favor and have a grown-up conversation with him as soon as you get there. Also please bring back some booze for me. They’ve got this cactus liquor that is to _die_ for, and the import taxes on it are insane.” _

Sakura got up from her Thinking Bucket and exited the supply closet in a daze, wandering to one of the greenhouses connected to the hospital.

_The _greenhouse, actually.

A few glances around assured her the greenhouse was empty, and she found the spot where The Incident went down. She sat cross-legged on the floor and pulled a random potted plant in her lap as a decoy. If someone barged in and saw her sitting on the floor, they would also find her examining this plant like it was the most important plant in the universe.

After she’d dragged Ino to her apartment to keep both of them out of trouble, she’d stayed awake after putting her friend to bed until the early hours of the morning. Wondering.

She hoped that Ino was right, that her nerves and—and _fear _stemmed from simply feeling nervous about seeing Gaara in a place where she couldn’t deflect as easily. He’d know if she was avoiding him here. He had her schedule and knew where she was supposed to be at all hours of the day. He hadn’t brought her to bed in the two days she’d been there already, but her schedule had been packed and she knew he was considerate enough to take her exhaustion into account. He wasn’t avoiding her. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. 

Nodding, she slowly absorbed the ideas, willing herself into a calm, picking her battles out from a sea of mayhem and panic. She admitted now that her feelings for Gaara were serious, possibly dangerously so. But she knew nothing about what he truly felt. Gaara, as much as he’d opened up to her more and more, was not one for proclamations like Lee or Naruto.

When she’d first brought up her friends-with-benefits scheme, he’d been startled but seemed to accept the terms rather quickly. Did he prefer their relationship that way? Had he only gone with the idea because she wanted it at the time, and he secretly loved her? And even if he did, what would they do then?

_Or maybe,_ a dark corner of her mind suggested, _it doesn’t matter either way because you’re not the type of girl a Kazekage can bring home. You’re egotistical enough to think the elders were prodding you into staying with him, but what if they were trying to drive you off instead?_

But that didn’t make sense, right? If she stayed with him long term, that would only be good for the alliance, right? And there she was again, jumping straight to conclusions. She didn’t even know if she _wanted _to date him conventionally. All she knew was she was willing to try.

Any relationship with him would be intense. Dating a Kazekage—really, actually dating him—would be tough, and whatever their motives, the elders obviously had marriage and heirs in mind. Even if she wanted to pretend that what they shared was casual, being in Suna where his position held far more obvious weight underscored the silliness of such a thought. They weren’t kids anymore, that was for damn sure.

Absentmindedly, she wondered how much he’d learned about sex and relationships growing up.

She knew, not from him but from Naruto, that Gaara’s father had impregnated his wife with only a Shukaku-compatible child in mind. If he grew up with a person like that, and with only the clinical sex education shinobi academies offered to bolster those teachings, it wouldn’t be surprising that his understanding of relationships was limited. It was entirely possible that he hadn’t given any thought to the structure of their arrangement. Or he could be setting her up to be a side relationship to whatever main one he or the elders would concoct for him later.

Though, if she was being fair, she had kind of set herself up for that by insisting that they remain only friends with no strings attached. _Fuck. I’m going to give myself stomach ulcers._

Was it even worth bringing this up to him?

On one hand, it could bring them closer together if the best-case scenario unfolded. She’d confess, he’d confess back at her, they’d make it official(er) and whatever happened would happen.

On the other, it could destroy what fragile equilibrium they’d maintained if she unbalanced the status quo. Could she be sure he wanted her? Did she even _want_ to get that close? Sooner or later the council—both councils—were bound to start asking terse questions. They couldn’t ride the good feelings of post-Fourth War diplomatic bliss forever.

Sakura had no intention of getting married any time soon. She also had no intention of becoming the foreign mistress to the Kazekage after he entered a “real” relationship to produce heirs for the Kazekage clan. The thought of either circumstance was—it was just—she couldn’t possibly be expected to—Sakura rested her head on her knees and groaned.

_It’s like visiting the parents, _the plant said, probably. _This isn’t some “hit me up when you’re in town or whatever” shit, this is some Real Shit. You might have been able to fuck around before the war, when everyone was fucking everyone because that’s what people _do _before a war, but now everything is chill, and you can’t say some sly bullshit to get out of discussing your Relationship with the Fifth Kazekage forever._

“Oh, goddammit.”

_Time to rethink my strategy, _she thought to herself. She almost replaced the plant but thought better of it and walked out of the greenhouse carrying it in her arms. It was full of secrets now.

She returned to the hospital, saw that nearly everyone was gone for their mid-day nap, and decided to take her official break now. Her appointed on-and-off guide, a brown-haired chuunin girl by the name of Matsuri she recognized from one of the joint exams, recommended a local tea shop. Sakura led the way, having seen the place countless times on her walk from the diplomatic apartments to the hospital and back again.

The denizens of Suna allowed her passage through their streets unchallenged. She felt eyes clocking her presence, following the path she took carefully. Most shinobi were polite enough not to ask her where she was going or what she was doing. Occasionally an older shinobi would nod at her, and she knew by the look in their eyes that she’d healed them at some point during the war.

When she entered the café, she ordered and took a seat near a window to wait. Matsuri followed and taking the seat next to her so that they both could watch the entrance. Sakura wondered if it would be rude to say anything about that, to ask why Matsuri couldn’t lower her guard in her own city. But then, the war had changed Sakura as well. Who knew what ghosts stirred restlessly here? _Also, that would absolutely be a dick move._

“Matsuri,” Sakura said. “What do you think of Gaara?” Matsuri’s face turned white, then red, and the girl stared down at the table. She had to know, Sakura thought, about her… relationship with the Kazekage. Anyone who hadn’t found out from the medical division’s tittering had certainly found out once the Infinite Tsukiyomi ended. Gaara’s first action upon having his mind restored to his control was to locate Sakura and kiss her senseless in front of god and Kakashi-sensei and everyone.

“Well,” Matsuri began, gripping the table’s edge with her fingertips, “he’s certainly come a long way since his inauguration. He’s very young for a kage, as you know. But I admire him and respect what he’s become. He could have been a hard ruler like his father and the Third. And he decided not to be. I mean, you’re here helping reform the hospital, for one thing. There’s no way that would have happened even ten years ago.”

Their tea arrived. Sakura selected an unidentifiable lump from the tray of bite-size snacks and hoped it wasn’t as sweet at the ones yesterday. Suna residents liked their treats saccharine and sticky.

“And,” Matsuri continued, “he told me he wants to become someone people respect. That people look up to. So I guess he wants to do that the hard way: by actually becoming a better person. I’m—I’m glad that there are people he can talk to. It’s nice that he has you.”

Matsuri watched her, and Sakura watched her back, searching for any resentment or jealousy. She found none. Smiling, Sakura finished the treat and took a long sip of her tea. Cold. Of _course_ they drank tea cold here.

“Tell me what it was like being his student,” Sakura said, and settled back into her chair as Matsuri began to speak again. This time, Matsuri looked far more comfortable.

* * *

It was evening now. Sakura looked up from the nurse’s station where she’d been reviewing rotations for tomorrow, saw that everyone from the day shift had gone home, and left. Matsuri excused herself after a few minutes of walking. Sakura wondered if she was relieved to get away. Watching someone assess hospital emergency protocol couldn’t have been fun.

She thought of heading back to her suite, but Gaara worked in the same building and she had some more overthinking to do before seeing him again. He would know that this evening’s schedule was light and would almost certainly find her. And what to do when he did? Keep the status quo for just a bit longer, or lay it all on the table and see where things went?

_It’ll be easy. ‘Hey Gaara, wanna start dating like normal people? I think it’s time.’_

Matsuri, after wrapping up a good hour-long expose on Gaara’s various virtues as a teacher and leader and man and haver of a sweet ass, had given Sakura some valuable advice. Slipping a little on her resolve not to show any weakness to the Sand shinobi, Sakura had admitted to Matsuri that having a “what are we” conversation with Gaara terrified her.

Matsuri only nodded in understanding and reached for Sakura’s hand across the table when Sakura had started visibly spiraling. She reminded Sakura that this—she gestured to all of Sakura—was new for Gaara and that navigating a relationship wasn’t any easier for him than it was for Sakura. Was probably harder, in fact, based on what details Matsuri knew of his childhood.

_“It seems like he really likes you. Why don’t you just talk to him? I’m sure he’ll understand whatever it is you have to tell him.”_

_Easier said than done, Matsuri. Easier said than done._

Well. That was enough thinking for now. At the next intersection she hung a right, following a path that brought her to a quaint little bar her temporary coworkers brought her to on her first night in Suna. The sake wasn’t quite as good here, but Sakura had never favored sake.

The people of Wind, ever resourceful, had figured out a way to distill a certain cactus’s stored liquid into a liquor. Ino, who had apparently turned into some sort of sommelier for liquor sometime in the past year, had raved about it. The bartender had offered her a sample in a tasting jar, and all the Suna shinobi in the room had cheered when she said it was delicious.

Clearer than tap water, it tasted the way freshly cut grass smelled, with hints of spice and smoke from the distillation process following the initial sharp vegetal notes. It occurred to Sakura that Ino hadn’t actually given her any money to buy the shit and resigned herself to weeks of chasing her friend down for recompense. 

She arrived at the marketplace.

Suna came alive at night. It made sense, she supposed, that people would get the most out of the twilight hours, balanced precariously between the angry heat of the day and the crisp chilliness the low humidity produced after sundown. The Suna from her memories surrounding The Incident had been drab, all sand and stone destined to become sand. Now as she walked around, she had time to look at what she’d missed.

The city busted at the seams with color. Strings of brightly colored flags spiderwebbed from building to building, thick enough in some places that it almost formed a sort of canopy shading the walkway underneath. The buildings, while all were made of the same stone material, sported painted designs in various shades of flamboyancy.

Domestic buildings favored natural designs and colors; greens, browns, and occasional jewel tones featured most often. Some of the plants were too stylized for her to recognize anything, though there were a lot of cactus-inspired designs that made her smile.

And bars, or at least the ones she’d seen, tended to be a bit louder. This one, a squat, one-story building that looked a million years old and baked into the landscape, someone had painted entirely dark red with irregular stripes the color of marigolds.

When she opened the door—the open-air restaurants Konoha favored would never pass muster in this land of biting wind—patrons spared her a glance before ignoring her once more. The bartender, a grizzled retired kunoichi by the name of Yuriko, nodded at Sakura as she took her seat.

Sakura spent the next two hours there, switching between hoping Gaara was looking for her, and hoping that he’d stay put so she could look for him first. She just needed… some more time. To think. _I don’t think relationships are supposed to be this stressful, _Sakura thought. _Not the good ones, anyway._

Sometime into her second drink, Sakura pondered the nature of serious relationships held up against the backdrop of Gaara’s personality. Matsuri had pointed out intuitively that a person with Gaara’s past wasn’t likely to take on relationships halfway. When he did things, he nearly always did them with purpose and intensity.

It would be okay to talk about the relationship thing, right? It wouldn’t scare him away, right? They could just talk. No promises need be made. He wouldn’t think she was weird, surely. He probably had no idea that she was even thinking this hard about it.

“Sure, hon,” Yuriko said.

She would have liked to sit at this bar all night, sipping sweet drinks and getting lost in the recesses of her own mind, but—but, but, but.

“There’s always someone’s but, isn’t there?” Sakura said to Yuriko, a bit buzzed after three cactus-based drinks. Yuriko agreed, Sakura paid her tab, and then she walked a few more streets over to the village center and the large administrative structure that dominated it.

She felt a twinge of disappointment when Gaara wasn’t waiting at her door, and mentally chided herself for believing even for a second that he didn’t have anything better to do than pine for her. Then she spent a few moments pining for him instead until she had the presence of mind to unlock her door. Gaara would have to wait until the morning, then.

Inside the room, she undressed by the window, donning a plush robe before stepping onto the balcony to shake her clothes free of the fine sand that seemed to get into every available crevice. Sakura wondered idly what Gaara would do if she asked him to remove the grains that made their way into her buttcrack daily.

Then she wondered if _he_ had sand make its way into his buttcrack daily. Giggling at the wonderful imagery, she stepped back into the hallway wearing her borrowed robe and made her way to the communal baths.

The baths had been a surprise, one that had taken her time to get used to. In Konoha, while public baths were common, nearly everyone had additional private bathrooms in their own homes, except for dedicated communal living spaces, like the barracks or orphanages. Here, neighborhoods had shared bath houses, even in the older areas of town where tribal families were rich enough to afford standalone homes rather than an apartment.

The most any apartment or home in Suna had on its own was a toilet and a sink. No tub, no shower. When you needed to bathe, for necessity or pleasure, you went to your local bath house. Fortunately, the bath houses for the administrative building were on site, one for every three floors, and came with complimentary basic cleansing items for visitors.

Sakura made her way down the hall and entered the facility, admiring the brightly colored tiles decorating the walls. A lone attendant working the desk greeted Sakura by name and gave her a numbered key attached to a bracelet. Sakura put on the bracelet, hesitated, and then told the attendant that should the Kazekage appear, it would be all right to let him know she was here. Thankfully, the attendant didn’t balk or tease, but simply nodded.

She walked into the right-hand door, marked with an open fan to indicate privacy. A closed fan marked the left-hand door. In Suna, bath houses did not separate by gender. On her first full day of this trip, the cultural guide the council assigned to her appeared delighted to educate Sakura on gender expression in the land of Wind.

While every tribe was unique, the guide had said, some tribes embraced a traditional third or fourth gender, a custom which had fascinated Sakura. One very small tribe in the southwestern corner of the country eschewed gender entirely, in language and in practice. A few tribes in the southeastern corner, nearer to Fire, expressed gender in ways more familiar to her.

The guide told her there was some minor political tension on account of gender practices, but only when tribes sought inter-tribal arranged marriages. Mostly, people were content to mind their own business, especially the closer you got to any major city.

The development of the Village Hidden in the Sand had tested the tribes in various ways, but gender was the sole area where, miraculously, the compromises had come easily. Private bath houses run by tribal members could be divided however they saw fit, provided no practices ran afoul of city or federal laws on discrimination or harassment. Public bath houses were to be divided into two sections: not by men and women, but into mixed bathing and private bathing sections.

To Sakura this seemed an ideal compromise, but she had born witness to too many Fire clan blood feuds started over things like “the mulberry tree you planted drops berries into my yard, and I Don’t Like That” to think any resolution perfect.

The mixed bathing area employed an open-plan architectural style, devoid of internal separation other than separate rooms for lockers and toilets. The private bathing layout branched out from the initial room like a fan, with a public locker area, spa, and snack bar at the pivot and hallways branching out from there as far as space allowed. Doorways lining each hallway led to private pool areas; attendants indicated the temperature and occupancy limit on signs at the top of the doorframes.

She made her way to the lockers and undressed there, putting her robe inside and keeping a book about Silphium she brought from home. You could stay dressed until you reached your pool room if you wanted, but on the first day she’d accidentally gone into the mixed bathing side, decided to stay out of curiosity, and experienced the unique thrill of fifty foreigners seeing her naked. And besides, she mused as she hung up her robe, she’d stopped feeling modest about nudity after approximately one hour of shadowing hospital rounds with Shizune. 

Owing to the late hour, the spa wasn’t open for business and neither was the snack bar, to her dismay. Two older people lounged in the hairstylists’ chairs, one complaining loudly about her wife’s habit of falling asleep with the lights on and the other sympathizing with stories of their spouse’s failure to wash dishes properly. Sakura smiled as she eavesdropped, happy that some things were universal.

The pair ignored her when she breezed past them into the hallway and walked all the way to the end. Rooms that could fit larger groups sat at the base of the fan, and one door she passed had what sounded like a pretty good party going on inside.

Her eye was on the very smallest rooms, the ones meant for one person having a Me Day or two to three people having an Us Day. Those rooms contained the bare minimum of facilities in most public bath houses, but the ones here for the diplomats and other important visitors offered a bit more. Sakura entered the last room in the hallway, the one she knew had a good view of the city at night. A puff of warm, moist air hit her in the face, and she closed the door behind her before giving her surroundings a once-over.

A small, in-ground pool dominated the center of the room, clear as glass and steaming hot. She walked over to the window and opened it to let the cool, night breeze in and offer a bit of relief from the humid atmosphere; she enjoyed hot springs as much as any one else, but in Konoha the open-air style of their bath houses allowed some small relief from the temperature and she couldn’t bear the Suna custom of melting away in the rooms sauna-style. When you had to fuck with humidity on a daily basis, you didn’t invite it into your Me Day.

A small scroll affixed to the wall dispensed water additives like bath salts for sale. All of them were expensive, because their use necessitated a deeper clean of the pool beyond the standard water recycling. _This definitely feels like a Me Day situation, _Sakura thought, and pulsed her chakra on one of the premium packages. It smelled good _and _it sparkled. While she waited for the attendant to run delivery, she took up a bucket and ladle from a supply shelf and poured water over her head in a corner of the room, sighing with contentment as the water fell in rivulets across her body and into a floor drain.

As she’d observed from her jaunt in the mixed baths, it was considered especially crass in Suna to get into the pools without rinsing off first, with either a bucket and ladle or a shower. In a place like Suna where you couldn’t _not_ be covered in sand at the end of the day, it made sense and probably saved everyone a lot of money on pool cleaning.

When no more water sat in the bucket, she refilled it and left the bucket and ladle in the corner. She stepped down into the pool, sinking down to her forehead in the middle where it was deepest. She stayed there for several minutes, luxuriating in the silky feel of the hot water. Steam wound in spirals and tufts over the surface of the pool, still as glass around where she’d settled.

After a few minutes, Sakura began to feel lightheaded and moved to the edge of the pool, reclining into a seat built into the foundation that left her exposed from the top of her chest up. She turned part way to face the door, folded her arms out onto the floor of the room, and waited.

Sooner or later he would show up, and then she’d seduce the answers out of him. Or engage him in conversation like a mature, responsible adult. She’d think of something. _Come on, I know you’re out there somewhere._

As though summoned by her thoughts (and wasn’t _that _a horrific concept), a knock she’d memorized months ago sounded at the door. She wondered if it would be petty to make him knock again or to open the door shamelessly naked. As it often did, nudity won out. She rose out of the water and slid open the shoji.

Leaning against the frame on one forearm, she regarded the Kazekage, out of his formal robes but still fully clothed and… of course he was holding the bath packet she ordered. But it also looked like he’d procured a bag of mystery snacks from somewhere, so she supposed she could forgive his forwardness.

“I hope you’re not expecting a tip for that.” To her wicked delight, he looked slightly taken aback at that, though he quickly regained his composure. A year ago, he probably would have given her statement some serious thought and an even more serious answer. While he may have _once_ had the social finesse of a snail, Sakura noticed him picking up on subtleties more and more every time she saw him.

She turned her back and returned to the pool, watching him out of the corner of her eye. Gaara entered and shut the door behind him, bending down to hand her the packet of salts. She tore it open and dumped the contents in her water. This packet had no dyes, so nothing changed color, but the surface now sported an iridescent sheen. Hopefully Gaara was amenable to being shiny.

He undressed in the corner of the room the way he always did: efficiently, no-nonsense, and with clinical precision. He even folded his pants correctly before setting them up on the shelf. It was like seeing a particularly fussy patient in the hospital.

She’d decided a while ago that she didn’t mind most of his little mannerisms. Part of her suspected those bits had been there the entire time, but that most people didn’t stay around him long enough to notice anything but his chronic resting bitch face. Now that Sakura herself had the time to relax around him, she rather enjoyed watching him just _be_. Folded pants and all.

He hesitated just a fraction when he saw the bucket in the corner, looking at her sideways as he sat on the stool facing the door and rinsed off.

“You were expecting me.”

“Yeah.”

“Where have you been all day?”

She snorted. “Like you don’t know.”

He turned towards her completely, and he looked startled again, the slightest pull to his eyes giving away his upset. “I don’t spy on you here. Or anywhere.”

“Oh, that’s not what I meant.” She turned her face aside, feeling coy. “It would be pretty loose of you not to have someone give you an occasional report of where I am, my habits, et cetera. You forget I worked for Tsunade for years.”

He put the ladle and bucket up on the shelf. When he turned again, she reached out her hand to him, beckoning from the pool. “I know how nosy all you kages are.”

He took her hand, letting her lead him into the water. He sat behind her on the ledge and put his hands on her, starting at the top of her thighs and sliding up to the bottom of her breasts. She could feel him getting hard already.

When he pressed his chest up against her, she counted the flutter of his heartbeats against her shoulder blades. She didn’t melt back into his arms, but she didn’t pull away, either, thinking. When he dropped his head to mark a trail of kisses from her shoulder up to the shell of her ear, she had an idea.

“Gaara.”

“Mm?”

“Will you help me wash my hair?” 

She felt him smile against her skin.

“The shampoo is up there on the—”

“I know.” She heard a familiar rustle and watched a sandy tendril leave his gourd—smaller now, which she wanted to ask about later—and deliver the requested bottle into his waiting hand. “I come here often.”

He let her pour as much as she wanted into the palm of his hand before setting the bottle aside and gently adjusting her form so that she faced away from him. _I know it’s cowardly, but there’s no way I can bring up what I’m about to bring up and look him in the face. I simply cannot._

One of his hands came around to tip her chin back slightly before he began working the shampoo into a lather on her scalp. It was heavenly. She closed her eyes and leaned back into his hands. She wondered where he learned to wash someone else’s hair but supposed that even as an uncontrollable child _some_one had to have cleaned him off occasionally.

_He actually runs a secret underground hair salon, _her imagination offered, and she bit her lip to corral the nervous laughter.

“You come here?”

“You sound surprised.”

“Oh, that’s right, most houses in Suna don’t have private baths.”

“Mine does.” _Well of course. He _is _the Kazekage._ A pause. “I like coming here.” 

_Okay. Safe start._

“Why do you like it?”

“It’s quiet. Not many people here in the middle of the night. I can think.” Another rustle of sand, and she heard the dip of the ladle as he began rinsing her hair out.

“Is it because no one wants to barge in on you naked?”

“Maybe.”

She heard the smile in his voice and fought the urge to turn around and embrace him, to leave the difficult conversations for Future Sakura. The tap of wood on tile let her know when he was finished, and when he put his hands on her waist she leaned back, still not looking at him.

_I can do this. Just a little more stalling. _He resumed his stroking from before, but his hands were more adventurous this time, sliding up to squeeze her breasts before dipping down to cup her pubis mons.

She gave in to the urge to look at him over her shoulder, and all her courage slipped away. _I can’t do this. _If she brought up her silly worries now, it would ruin the moment. With the heat in his eyes, she knew where his mind was headed, and it wasn’t in the direction of serious conversation. She leaned back and kissed him. When she reached behind to give firm, steady strokes, he groaned into her mouth. _Later. We’ll talk later. In the morning._

He slipped a hand between her legs, the other traveling from breasts to face and back again. When he deserted his ministrations to grip her by the hips, she allowed him to turn her to face him. She perched over his lap where he sat on the ledge, a knee on each side of his thighs. Waves lapped against her body when his hands left the water and cupped her face.

She dropped her eyes to his shoulder, afraid of what she would see in his gaze and afraid of what she might say. It couldn’t mean anything to him. It was like Matsuri said. He was an intense person. This would all burn out spectacularly one day when he moved on to something real, and she wouldn’t ever have to think again of how safe she felt in his arms.

“Tell me,” he panted, still holding her face. “Tell me what you want from me. Let me give you what you want.” Everything. Nothing. The strength to meet her fate head on, or the chance to shape it.

“Kiss me.” He did. “Your mouth.” She felt weightless when he gripped her at the top of her thighs and hauled her clear of the water, laying her body across the floor of the room with her pelvis positioned at the edge of the pool. _Love me, _she thought. _Don’t leave me behind._

She slid her calves over his shoulder and ran her fingers through his hair once when he dipped his head down. Every pass of his tongue set her writhing, and all too soon she forgot how thin the walls of this bath house were. She begged for more when he sucked at her, arched her back when he set two fingers to work in tandem with his mouth, and whimpered when he teased his tongue in circles.

“Don’t,” he paused when she put a hand over her mouth, fingers still inside her. “It happens all the time here. I want to hear you.” _No, I can’t. I can’t do this._

She went rigid as she came, legs clamping around his face as her back arched off the floor and she let out a wail. He held her as she came down, resting the side of his face on her stomach and leaving more kisses there. When he spoke, she felt the vibration of his voice deep into her skin.

“Where do you want me?” _Here_, she wanted to say. _I want you here._ But out of the water, the night air had set her skin to goosebumps, and the tiled floor had begun to irritate her tailbone. The nagging medic’s voice at the back of her mind had some opinions about sexual intercourse in a public bathtub, even if it was cleaned in between uses. So she pushed herself up on her hands to a sitting position, reaching for his face even as he did the same.

“Take me to your room.”

“Okay.”

* * *

He waited for her while she finished gathering her things, ostensibly to respect her privacy but in truth to give himself time to think.

The council had been relentless in the days and weeks leading to her arrival. It was long past time, they said, to make this official. You’re embarrassing us, they scolded him.

_“You’re not a boy anymore, Gaara. We were happy to let you roll around with her as much as you pleased with the war coming, but it’s time to take things seriously, now.”_

_“You are the Kazekage. You cannot be so involved with a foreigner, especially one with such close ties to Fire military leadership. Think of the consequences if she conceived. A foreign child allied to Konoha would have legitimate claim to your position. It would be unthinkable.”_

_“We have no issue with her, of course. Even if she is clanless.” _

_“Hardly. She’s a war hero. The only one to lay hands on the goddess and damage her physical form. She healed tens of thousands. Her medical knowledge surpasses that of her teacher, the Slug Princess herself. Think of the assets she could bring to the Land of Wind. The slug contract alone is invaluable.”_

_“We will give you six months, Gaara. If she is not betrothed to you by that time, we will pursue the previous request we received from the Hoki tribe.”_

He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. Confronted so suddenly by the elders’ request, all he’d done at the time was meekly agree to their terms, too startled to question and bargain in return. As her arrival had drawn closer, he felt anxious in a way he hadn’t experienced since the first time he’d gone to Konoha to confront her. The time before the second joint exams.

The time she’d asked to be friends with him, only friends, and he’d meekly agreed to those terms as well.

He’d never told her he’d known the whole time what she was asking for. He’d overheard enough complaining while eavesdropping on his guards to know what she’d wanted from him. A physical relationship and nothing more. He’d been startled at the time out of hurt, not ignorance. He felt foolish now, for believing that someone like her would want him completely. Why would she? She’d seen him before. He’d almost killed her, once.

But she asked for separation, for friendship and sex, and he’d happily given them to her, desperate as he was not to lose a connection he’d somehow forged.

And at the time, he thought he could be content with that. She was his first lover, and he was young, and he’d really thought he would tire of her soon enough, long before his council would take notice. She’d held up her end of the bargain wonderfully.

_Pathetic._

And now the council wanted him to ask for her hand. He couldn’t do it. What could he say to her? He couldn’t ask her to stay here. She’d never leave the Leaf, not for him. Who would leave their friends and family, and all they’d ever known, for him and his council of elders picking and prodding at her with their inappropriate remarks? He wanted her so badly it hurt. But she didn’t want him back, and he wouldn’t try to make her stay. He’d tried so hard to change, to become the best person he could be, but she didn’t owe him anything for all that.

The night of her arrival he’d paced in his apartments, agonizing over whether he’d seek her out in her rooms. He’d see her sooner, but he’d also be that much closer to ending everything. She was tired, and it would be polite to let her rest. But if she expected him to go to her—? Perhaps it would be unseemly for him to seek her out so quickly in his own city. He would see her at meetings, so she would know he wasn’t away. If he made an excuse and left Suna on some errand, she might think he was avoiding her. _She would be correct. _Well, and others could catch on, and it would be unseemly for people to think he was cowardly.

His siblings hadn’t been much help. They looked like they pitied him a little, but all they offered was support for whatever decision he elected to make. How easy for them, not to have such burdens placed upon them. Even with Shukaku long gone, his body still was not his own.

Sakura emerged into the hallway, robed and carrying her belongings, and he pushed his bitterness aside for the time being. Hopefully for good, later. She looked at him for a moment, scanning him up and down, and then turned to head back out of the baths.

“Are you enjoying your time in Suna so far?” He watched her out of the corner of his eye. She shrugged and pilfered the bag of snacks from his hand, which she began to eat out of.

“It’s been okay. Gotta say I’m not a huge fan of your council getting a little too personal in every meeting I have with them. They probably don’t treat _you _like that.”

He almost snorted. “They can be overly familiar at times, yes. I’ve gotten better at dealing with them.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. My skills at pretending not to hear things have vastly improved over the past five years.” She laughed, and his heart skipped a beat. Maybe, if she was happy, he’d have a chance—

“I’d like to say I learned that from working with Tsunade-shishou, but to be honest I have the opposite problem. If I didn’t listen to every little thing she said, I was risking a particularly violent training session in dodging things.”

“She threw things at you?” They’d made it to the end of the hallway. When he passed by the larger rooms, the raucous one from before had fallen silent, though he could still sense people inside. Inside, someone was frantically whispering for everyone to shut up. He saw Sakura look back at the room as well, and rested a hand on her lower back in support. “Don’t worry about that.”

“Sure. And yeah, she threw things at me. Baseballs, office supplies, small bits of Katsuya-sama, boulders. One of the chuunin guards, once. These are really good, by the way.”

“I can get you more later.”

“That sounds nice.”

They walked the rest of the way in silence, stopping in the locker room for Sakura to get the rest of her belongings. Despite the light tone of their chatter, he felt heavy with dread, and he could practically see the tension coming off Sakura in waves.

He hoped it was simple arousal, but his suspicious side suspected she was angry about his not having gone to her sooner. _Or maybe, _a deep dark corner of his mind suggested, _she knows that you’ve gotten attached, and she’s going to reject you. You’ve really gone and fucked it up now. _He took two deep breaths. Beside him, Sakura peered over curiously, and he realized he’d never took his hand from the small of her back, and that he was starting to ball up the fabric there into a fist. He forced his muscles to relax.

She dropped her key back with the attendant, who bowed deeply at them both. Sakura blushed, and he focused on the red of her cheeks to calm himself. _Look at what you’re doing now, _the voice hissed. _You can’t even tell her the truth. She trusts you and you’re trying to drag this out for your own sake._

“Are you okay, Gaara?”

“Fine. Long day.”

Lies upon lies.

When they got to his apartment, he let her go in first, pausing to scan the floor once with his sand. Satisfied, he entered the doorway and shut it quietly behind him. Sakura stood in the middle of the main room, scrutinizing all that she could see but too good-mannered to go snooping around right in front of him. She seemed most interested in his kitchen table, covered in horticultural experiments, most of which had been complete failures.

“I’ve never seen where you’ve lived before. Don’t know what I expected.” Emboldened, she circled the kitchen, poking her head into a sitting room area with a library. “Your books?” He followed her.

“They were here when I was inaugurated. Many of them were the Fourth’s. Some were the Third’s.”

“Hmm.” From there she inspected the guest bathroom, a utilitarian structure that quickly lost her interest. And after that, all that was left was… _Tell her. Don’t you dare sleep with her one more time and _then _tell her._

She turned to face him, running her hands over her bathrobe, hands lingering at the tie. She still looked tense with unknown worries, but when she unwrapped the knot and let the robe slide down her body to the floor, her hands were steady. When he didn’t immediately go to her, she raised her hands in front of herself, clasping them at her neck defensively.

“Gaara?” She moved first, walking across the room to him and tucking her body into his, front to front. Her hands came to rest against his chest, and he drew his arms around her, pulling her closer so that her body heat burned through his clothing.

Her hair smelled of flowers and fruit from her bath salts, courtesy of the very generous stipend Sand had agreed to in exchange for her help. The attendant working the front desk hadn’t asked him anything when he showed up, just gave him the salts and said, “Best of luck, sir.”

He smiled into the curve of her scalp. If only it could be this easy forever. Chasing one another around and having fun with no strings attached. But was there really such a thing? It was so clear to him now what had escaped him before: she’d had him the moment she kissed him in the greenhouse.

“Gaara, what’s wrong? Are you upset about something?”

He drew back, looked her in the eyes, and made his choice.

“I need to tell you something.” She closed her eyes, pressing her lips together tightly.

“I know. So do I.”

He glanced at the floor, contemplating whose terrible confession would do the most damage.

“Do you… want to put your robe back on first?”

“I guess I could.”

“Only if you want to.” She shrugged, picked up the robe, and tied it primly, marching to the couch and draping herself over the arm closest to him.

“So, who goes first, then?”

He joined her on the couch, agonizing at the distance between them and the mental calculations he forced himself into. Close enough to touch, to convey the deep intimacy of his words? Or apart, giving her safe distance to be upset, to feel in control?

Neither option favored his nerves.

Maybe she’d break up with him and he could have his heart surgically removed and vow to never feel anything ever again. And whatever poor woman they stuck to him could deal with his remains post-op.

His hand hovered over her thigh, caught halfway to an encouraging pat. They both stared dumbly at it.

“Well,” Sakura began—words dropping from her mouth in pitch-slow drips, building up between them like a wall—“I just wanted to say—do you remember when we were in my apartment that first time? And I told you we could just stay friends and still sleep together, and everything would be okay like that?”

“Yeah.” He only thought about it every other day. He only felt like tearing his own hair out over not being clear about what he wanted every two days. He reached for her hands then, hoping that when she knew everything that she wouldn’t be angry he’d taken one last thing for himself.

“I don’t think that I can—I don’t think we should—”

“The council wants me to marry. To secure heirs for Suna.” Saying it out loud was, surprisingly, not in the least bit difficult to do. Watching all the blood drain from her face and feeling her body pull back from his like she’d been shocked, on the other hand, felt like one of the worst things he’d ever experienced. Her eyes were huge in the dark, wide and trembling.

“Gaara.” He dropped his shoulders and rested his forearms against his legs. Beside him, Sakura slowly rose to her feet and shifted to face him, looking down at his face which he’d resolutely turned to her. “Why are you telling me this?”

“They don’t approve of the way I’ve been seeing you… as a friend. I’m sorry. I know you don’t want anything more. But I wanted you to know.”

“You don’t think I—”

“I know you don’t want a relationship with me. I wouldn’t ask that of you. But I just wanted you to know. It’s why they’ve been pestering you.”

“Gaara.” She whispered now. “Do you want me to leave?”

“The council wants—”

“What do _you _want, Gaara? Tell me that, at least. I’d have hoped that after all this time you could be honest with me.” She folded herself onto his lap, knees to either side of his body as she straddled him. With his hands on her waist, he knew he should push her away, send her to her room, promise that he held no hard feelings and wished her only the best. That was the right thing to do. He held on tighter.

“I know you want—”

“You _don’t _know. I was getting ready to tell you what I want. Look at me, Gaara.” She took his face in her hands, holding him steady in her gaze. “I wanted to tell you tonight that I was done with just being friends. That I wanted to try dating. I know I said I just wanted to be friends, but I said that because I was scared. And I was still worried about how I felt for Sasuke. But now, I really… well, I really like you. And I wanted to get to know you better. You know. Monogamously?”

“Oh.” Oh. _Oh._

“But if they’re putting this kind of pressure on you, I don’t—I don’t know if—I mean, could you get out of it?” Her eyes were bright, with hope or tears he wasn’t sure. For the first time in his life, he wished he could run away. Even when Sand was at its worst towards him, even on his father’s most abusive days, he never thought to turn his back on the village. For her, he thought he could be convinced, if given enough time. Just one thing for himself, only for himself.

He closed his eyes again. If she’d gotten mad and stormed out, he thought he could’ve dealt with that. This, knowing that she did feel something and that it was slipping away from him, was infinitely worse.

“It’s not that simple. They plan to contact a tribal liaison for the Hoki family and make an offer. If I were to refuse, it would sour relations with their people for years, maybe even generations. And if the council went through with contacting the tribe and then I continued seeing you, that would be even worse in their eyes. You know I don’t care about your family history, but to these people, pursuing a clanless woman instead of a woman from an old, established tribe is unthinkable. Even though they’ve given me six months, it’s likely that some talks have already gone on behind my back.”

“Six months? To be—to be engaged?”

“Yes. But presumably the wedding would happen shortly after. People in my position and rank tend not to have long engagements. It is sometimes viewed as disrespectful.”

He forced his eyes back open, his gaze looking right into hers. He would do her this small courtesy. Expecting to see her hurting, drawing away from him did not ease the stab of guilt he felt right in the heart for doing this to her. But he had to do it. To wait would be cruel, now that he knew what he knew.

“I won’t ask you to marry me. I wouldn’t do that to you. Not like this.” She inhaled sharply, climbing off his lap delicately until she stood before him. She laughed, but there was no happiness in it.

“I get it. I kind of knew, I guess. That this probably wouldn’t last in the end.” She put a hand on her hips, the other mussing her damp hair.

“Yeah.”

“Well.” She swallowed hard, and he forced down memories of drawing his tongue down the length of her body, following muscles drawn taught with pleasure. “Well, I guess I’ll go then.”

She picked up her book and walked to the door, and he would’ve made himself stay there and watch her leave. He would’ve done the right thing if it wasn’t for the barest hint of tears threatening to fall and the ramrod-straight angle to her back that he’d never seen on her before, even in the worst parts of the war. He stood, and she stopped, but she didn’t turn around.

_Don’t say it._

“Sakura,” he said. “Stay.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh you thought this was just a light-hearted pornographic fanfiction, huh? You thought you were just gonna come in here and have a good time and leave? No catching feels? First of all how dare you.
> 
> At the Ninja Village Hidden in the Lush the bath bombs all contain a random instrument of death. Legend says that the first summoning contract was found in a Ginger Ninja™ bath bomb. OBVIOUSLY, they are strong against water jutsu users, though there are rumors of a kekkei genkai that combines bath bomb and water bomb jutsu to form a new form of bendin—I mean jutsu. It’s soap jutsu.
> 
> For every comment you will receive a government-assigned bath bomb Flavor Experience along with your exciting weapon reveal, in addition to my usual TMI.


	5. In This Chapter I Rip Off Some Classic European Literature

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope everyone enjoyed their government-assigned bath bombs and secret weapons. I broke into all of your houses and hid the real thing somewhere. You will find it when The Time is Right.
> 
> Where's the fancy cocktail Discourse because I have some opinions about all these whole-ass bouquets of herbs people are stuffing into these mason jar concoctions 
> 
> Getting all into my face and eyes and shit 
> 
> quit wasting all this rosemary

The last time Sakura sobbed into Ino’s shoulder over a man, it felt like her whole world was ending. It happened, as apocalyptic events often do, in a cocktail bar at the edge of town.

The moment Sakura had arrived home from her three-month mission in Suna, she’d done her duty passing written and verbal summaries to her Hokage, and from there went straight to the Yamanaka compound, where she’d holed herself up in Ino’s room for two weeks, leaving only to do her hospital rounds and returning too quickly for any concerned parties to strike up conversation.

Rumors flew, as rumors often did. The shinobi who intercepted letters started most of them, which made sense seeing as they had front-row seats to Sakura’s communication with the Kazekage. When a week and a half went by with no correspondence between the two, whispers passed from ear to ear and reached her in the form of a disheveled Naruto, who’d left in the middle of training to track Sakura down and demand to know why she hadn’t told him about the “big breakup.”

Sakura inhaled deeply, assured Ino—halfway into weaving signs for a powerful fuck-off technique—that she could handle this, and told Naruto the story she wanted the village to hear. The story that would buy her a little more time to lick her wounds out of sight.

With Ino’s hand supportive against her upper back, Sakura told Naruto that everything was fine. She and Gaara had decided to end their relationship amicably. They’d never been anything more than friends. Though the war had intensified their feelings for one another, once the high passed they realized there wasn’t enough of a spark to justify maintaining a taxing, long-distance relationship. Plus, Sakura pointed out, Gaara was getting old enough to start thinking of politically advantageous marriages, and one was already in the works with a Wind clan.

Blue eyes filled with concern, and then anger.

“I _told_ you I hate when people lie to themselves.”

A puff of smoke left her and Ino alone again. Yamanaka clan members, watching silently from the sidelines, shook their heads and went back to their business. Sakura felt weightless and thin, and the small portion of her psyche not wallowing in self-pity wondered what everyone would do if she pulled a Tsunade and just. Left.

Cool fingers against her upper arm grounded her in the present and she followed them back to Ino’s bedroom, and from there back to Sakura’s place. Sakura sat in the kitchen while Ino finished unloading all fifty-seven of her hair products in Sakura’s tiny apartment bathroom.

“Let’s go out, Forehead Girl. I’ll buy us some drinks, okay?”

The apartment was clean, her fridge was empty, her mind was blank, and her heart was shattered, so the only thing left was to say yes.

“Okay.”

* * *

To her credit, Sakura didn’t initiate the sobbing until she got into the private booth Ino bought for the evening, but only if the floor counted as “into the booth.” By the time Ino reappeared with two weird drinks in hand—these had rosemary sprigs that had been… burned?—Sakura and the carpet had become fairly intimate.

Clucking her tongue, Ino set the drinks on the fumy, lacquered table and mother-henned Sakura into the loveseat. For a good ten minutes she made her way through both drinks until Sakura emerged from her folded arms puffy, damp, and dehydrated.

“Oh,” Sakura looked over at Ino, who’d been watching her silently the entire time. “I thought that one was for me.”

“Yeah, like you were in any state to drink it. I’m gonna need these too, ya know.”

Sakura laughed, a tinny sound that came out more like a hiccup.

“Should I get your next round?”

Ino pressed her lips together firmly and shook her head.

“I don’t think so. Though you could definitely afford it now, after your Suna mission. What was that, three straight months of diplomatic fluffery? Bet you made out like a bandit.”

The plush fabric of the booth seat enveloped Sakura expansively when she leaned back into it. If Ino thought she was trying to retreat into its velvety folds to avoid the conversation, she didn’t say anything, only watched Sakura mope with a patience Sakura couldn’t remember her acquiring.

“Well,” Sakura said, feeling more bitter with every word, “I certainly made out with—wait no, that doesn’t sound right.”

“Wow, and you’re not even one drink in, Forehead. That’s pretty sad. I knew you were a lightweight, but I’ve never met someone whose tipsy threshold started at zero drinks.”

Sakura scowled, realizing exactly what Ino was doing. “If you think,” she jabbed Ino in the stomach with a finger emphasizing every other word, “that I’m going to let you cheer me up when I am _trying_ to be _miserable_, then you’d better get some better ideas, you blonde bimbo.”

A server knocked on the sliding door, bowing at the pair and politely ignoring Sakura’s dragged-to-hell mode.

“Well,” Ino drawled after the server left with their orders (and Sakura _would _be drinking her cocktail this time, weird garnish and all), “I think just payment for allowing you to abuse your poor, innocent best friend who only wants to help you…could start with telling me what really happened in Suna.”

Sakura, who learned her poker face from Tsunade, blushed beet-red and stared deeply into the table. There had to be something under all that lacquer to become suddenly fascinated with.

“Yeah,” Ino continued. “If a certified dumbass like Naruto can see through you, then so can everyone else. He’s just the only one with the lack of sense to screech about it in public. I guess he was a hero and all, but that boy just wasn’t raised right.”

Sakura sighed. “Just—just don’t tell anybody else, okay? I know people will probably find out eventually, but I’d like to control flow of information.” Three days of travel and two weeks of intense moping hadn’t done wonders for Sakura’s willpower. Ino wanted to know, more importantly she wanted to help, and Sakura would probably feel better if she offloaded some of her horrible burdens onto another human being.

Ino said nothing, just sat back and waited. She really _was_ getting good at this interrogation thing. The drink in front of her beckoned, and Sakura obliged, gulping down half before Ino began protesting at her lack of appreciation.

“Okay, so,” Sakura began slowly, “what I told Naruto wasn’t exactly a lie. I just didn’t tell him the full story, and what happened after.”

“Uh huh…” Ino nodded encouragingly, using her rosemary sprig to swirl her concoction around and around.

“Well. Um. Things really started unraveling the minute I got there, in a way. But the worst of it came at the end, right before I left.” Sakura took a deep breath, held it in, and released. There was something deliriously comforting about friends who volunteered to be occasional dumping grounds for unwanted emotions.

“Right, so you already told me at my house about getting nasty at the bathhouse and everything you told Naruto. But what else?”

Sakura stared even deeper into her drink, hoping no one would mind when she needed to disappear under its surface later. “So that night, after he told me all those things… he asked me to stay with him.”

“Stay?” Ino reeled back a bit. “Like, stay stay? Or stay and have sex with me stay?”

“I… don’t know? But the important thing is that I stayed. We had sex. And then again. And then a whole lot of other times. Like a looooot. It was bad.”

“The sex was bad?” Ino wrinkled her nose up. “Didn’t we already discuss this?”

Sakura waved a hand impatiently. “No, no. Just—the whole situation was bad. All of the truth came out and we just got completely desperate and reckless. Like before the war, when every time we were together, we were both thinking about how we might not see each other ever again.” Sakura took another drink, and when she reached the bottom Ino pushed hers over without looking away.

“And?”

“And, it’s honestly a shock that either of us got anything done for the next three months after that. If we weren’t having sex, we were draped naked over each other like a pornographic woodblock painting. But it felt like we were running away from the future, like if we spent enough time mashing our genitals together that it wouldn’t feel bad when I left and it was over, because we’d done enough fucking to last the rest of our relationship in some other timeline where we ended up together.”

“Wow. That’s a lot. I’m getting more, hang on.” Ino leaned her head out the door again for more drinks. “And then?”

“And then… I thought I was pregnant.”

“Oh, shit.” Ino looked shocked, and Sakura winced. After a pause, Sakura held her hands up in an exaggerated shrug. The drinks arrived. Comically large sage leaves floated on the top of each.

“And were you?”

“No,” Sakura said. “I should’ve looked into it more. I’m a medic, I _know_ false positives can happen with damn near any test. But I was already into that shitty mindset, so when this happened, I completely freaked out. And then I told him, and _he_ freaked out.”

Ino made a soft _hmm_ of consideration. “I can’t really imagine a guy like Gaara freaking out. He’s always so—you know—he’s got the resting bitch face. Emphasis on the resting.”

“The freakout happened in his own way, yes. He was completely speechless when I told him. He asked me what I was planning on doing, and I said I was probably going to give myself an abortion through medication. There are a few things you can take early on that induce a miscarriage.”

“Right, right.” Ino’s expression didn’t change, and Sakura made herself relax, feeling a bit safer from Ino’s easy acceptance.

“He looked upset, but when I asked him why, he wouldn’t answer me. Then we had a fight about it, which was entirely me crying and shouting at him and him clamming up more and more. When I was able to do a better test the next day and it was negative, and after I did a full chakra scan of my own system, I told him about the mistake. That was two weeks before I was slated to leave.”

“Okay, and then?”

“And it was really godawful awkward after that. I ended up sneaking out a week early when he had to travel somewhere else in Wind for something. Well, not really sneaking out. I got permission from his second to formally leave. I didn’t say goodbye to him.” 

“Shit.”

“Yeah. And since I’ve been home, he’s written to me twice and I haven’t responded. There’s probably a third letter on its way directly to my house as we speak.”

“Oh, Sakura.” Ino’s eyed welled up with tears. “This must be so awful for you. I know this won’t change anything, but I’m really sorry all that happened to you. I hate when politics gets in the way of love like that.”

Sakura leaned into the curve of Ino’s body against the padded seat, reeling slightly after pounding two _very_ strong drinks. “Ino,” she said, “I really hope your parents will let you have some nice girl and not get you kicked out of your clan and stuff. They’re not going to make you marry some guy, are they? I feel like at least one of us deserves to be happy.”

“Don’t you worry about that,” Ino said firmly. “Tonight, we drink to your woes, and only your woes.”

And they did. And when they eventually stumbled back to Sakura’s apartment, Ino didn’t say a word about the letter Sakura ignored, a letter which had been pushed insistently under her front door. 

* * *

When Sakura finally told Naruto a more accurate but censored version of the same story, he surprised her by failing to explode. She’d visited him in person at the tiny apartment he’d convinced Sasuke to move into. They both said it was to keep an eye on one another, but the rest of the village rolled its eyes and kept a lookout for wedding invites.

Sunglasses shielded her from the consequences of her alcohol-related decisions, but Naruto’s quiet, simmering anger was a variable she’d failed to prepare for.

“I can’t believe this, Sakura. You can’t just let them bully you two around like that. It’s not fair. It isn’t right.”

“She _knows_ that, idiot.” Sasuke thwapped him lightly in the back of the head. Her two boys sat on the couch in front of her, opposite the coffee table she’d dragged a kitchen chair to. It felt a little bit like going to her grandparents’ house.

“Okay, but—” Naruto began to protest, and Sasuke interrupted him firmly.

“No. It doesn’t work like that. Not with people in positions like his, and not with noble clans. You think my parents were in love before they got married? Sometimes it just doesn’t work out.”

“But you said your parents did love each other!”

“Yeah, _after_ they got married. In arranged situations, the best you can hope for is that you like who they stick you with. It’s always been done like this. Sometimes if they’re lenient they’ll let each person have someone on the side. As long as you produce heirs, that’s all they care about.”

Naruto’s eyes grew wide. “Sakura, you wouldn’t—”

“No,” Sakura snapped. “I’m not becoming anybody’s mistress. And besides, if I got pregnant in that situation, Suna would probably pressure me to let them have the kid to avoid a claim of birthright.”

Sasuke nodded slowly in agreement. “See? She understands. Sensible.”

“But—” Naruto gesticulated wildly, like he thought the answer to all the world’s problems could be plucked out of the air. _Or pulled out of his ass like it usually is, _Sakura’s mind provided. “This isn’t right,” he repeated. “I’m going to go to Suna, go talk to him and the council to get them to think straight. Maybe I can punch some sense into all of them. Works every time.”

“NO,” Sakura and Sasuke shouted at once.

Naruto cowed, physically shrinking back into the cushions at their combined show of force. Was this what it was like to have a functioning friendship with a functioning Sasuke? Sakura made a note to come over more often, hopefully with less dark clouds hanging over her life and sanity.

On the wall, Naruto’s clock ticked away, reminding her that she was due for a presentation with Tsunade. Now that she’d learned nearly all her mentor’s techniques, Tsunade had lately been pressing Sakura into fleshing out some of her more experimental obstetrical procedures. On Fridays, she expected demonstrations from Sakura, and surveyed them all with clinical judgement. _No rest for the wicked, I suppose._

Sasuke took her attention for what it was and stood up to see Sakura out. Naruto, pouting, rose as well and she hugged them both tightly.

“Thanks for letting me come talk your ears off, guys.”

Sasuke hmphed and disappeared back into the living room, which was to be expected.

“Naruto,” Sakura continued. “You are not to contact Gaara _or_ his council about any of this. Don’t start some shit between Konoha and Suna because you can’t control yourself. I love you, but this is _my_ life and my decisions to make. Okay?”

“Fine. But for the record, I’m not happy about any of this.”

Sakura rolled her eyes. “Yes, I can see that.”

“Weekly dinner still on tonight?”

“Of course.”

* * *

Technically, Naruto did keep his promise to Sakura regarding the Land of Wind. When she came home one day and saw Kakashi hanging out her bedroom window planting annuals in a brand-new window planter, she knew without asking that Naruto had not extended his silence regarding their sensei.

Kakashi wasn’t one for heart-to-heart conversations about feelings, so Sakura spared him the agony, teasing him about moonlighting as a surprise gardener to make up for it. She didn’t ask why he was there, and he didn’t offer. He was, in his own weird little way, showing that he cared, even if his brand of caring did involve breaking into her apartment to plant nasturtiums.

The rest of her cohort (plus Team Gai) showed their support in other ways as she allowed bits and pieces of her story to make its way into the world. From what she could tell, they believed her, or at least pretended to for her sake. She left out some of the more graphic sexual descriptions, skimmed over the impending Wind clan engagement, and concealed the pregnancy scare entirely from everyone but Ino, but that still left enough satisfying scuttlebutt to satiate everyone’s nosy proclivities.

Weeks after her return, Sakura felt confident in publicly claiming she was “over it,” and everyone had respectfully agreed with this obvious pile of bullshit. Everyone but Shino.

He found her at her favorite dumpling bar over lunch and sat at her table, staring her down until she asked what he was doing there. She’d gone on a few missions with him before the war, but even after her Ino-sourced revelations on his sexual proclivities, his boldness still surprised her.

“You’ve told everyone you’re fine, and everyone says they believe you. Why? Because they think this will make you happy. But a true friend watches for what is underneath. Your Yamanaka friend knows this. She watches you differently from the others, but even she puts your happiness above the truth.”

Sakura paused in her dumpling frenzy, a particularly good specimen frozen between her bowl and her mouth. “Wow, Shino. That’s, uh, a lot.”

Shino waved a server over, who took his order and left with the usual unnecessary hurrying most civilians afforded the Aburame Clan.

“What it is is the truth. You are still not at peace with yourself, and that is because you haven’t considered your position logically as well as emotionally. Both must be in balance in order to truly move on.”

Narrowing her eyes did not seem to affect Shino in the same way it worked on Naruto.

“Wait, what do you mean everyone ‘says’ they believe me? Are they talking about me behind my back?”

Shino ignored her sad attempt at derailing the conversation and went on. “I may not be privy to all the details, but I have ascertained what I believe are the facts because—”

“Because peacetime is apparently so boring that people are scraping the bottom of the barrel for the next big scandal, yeah.”

Harsh restaurant lights glinted off Shino’s glasses, and his only tell manifested as a slight tilt forward. Sakura felt a bit out of her depths, not used to being socially outmaneuvered by others her age. “Sorry, I just—. You’re trying to help, I get it. Go on.”

“Sakura,” Shino continued. “Your relationship with the Kazekage is high stakes. Why? Because anything, including a fallout, could impact diplomatic relations between our villages for decades to come.”

“So, you’re worried about political tension?” Sakura returned to her dumpling bowl, eating a few more before they became tepid. Across the table, Shino managed to project an irritated air. A few bugs flew in tight circles around his head before returning… inside. Somewhere.

“No. I am merely pointing out to you the external import of your coming to terms with the facts. I believe it is the focus for your emotional turmoil. Why? Because you choose to focus on the happiness of others over your own when your back is against the wall. You believe that attempting to pursue a relationship after this point would upset the balance of Wind and Fire, simply because you have been told by certain parties that this would occur. Parties with a personal stake in your connection with the Kazekage. I do not think I am far from the truth when I say Suna’s council would rather you not be with him, and that they would do anything to drive you away in order to serve their own interests.”

_That’s a bit on the nose. I don’t remember telling anyone but Ino all that. _Warily, Sakura looked up from her bowl at Shino, who might have been made of marble for all he’d moved since he sat down.

“My concern for you is as a friend. I do not wish for you to be upset. Consider: would you have been happy marrying the Kazekage by the time the six months was up?”

Sakura froze. How had he—? _When_ had he—?

“Consider as well: would you have been happy in a side relationship? Would you have been happy having a child pulled between two nations? No. Why? Because all of those things would have made you miserable. But are they truly the only options for you? Or merely the ones that certain people want you to believe you have?”

Shino’s dumplings came, and Sakura was too stunned to do anything but watch as he ate them. Folding her arms felt too obvious, so she settled for nervously tapping her foot on the floor, which was of course much less obvious. Somehow, Shino once again noted her behavior and spoke before she could think herself into a deep pit.

“I do not bring these things up to you because I wish to remind you of your pain. My point is only this: that you believe you have exhausted all of your options by acquiescing to these paths alone as your determined fate.”

“What do you mean?”

Shino finished his dumplings and set his bowl and utensils to the side of the table.

“I mean only that this may not be the end. You failed to keep your relationship with the Kazekage not because of some failing on your part, but because of circumstances, and because of political maneuvering. But, circumstances can change, as can politics.”

Shino stood up sharply, looking down at Sakura through shielded eyes. “If an opportunity should present itself that represents a change in circumstance, take it if you wish. But whatever you do, do it without reservation. Only then do I believe you will truly be happy. With or without him.”

Stunned into silence once more, Sakura watched as Shino nodded politely at her, turned, and left the dumpling bar without another word. Only an empty dumpling bowl at the table signified he’d ever been there. And, unfortunately, his bill, which she realized with a wry smile that he’d left for her. Ass.

_Shino, huh, _Sakura thought as she finished her dumplings, which by now were, unfortunately, tepid. _Gotta keep an eye on that guy._ She walked back to her apartment, preferring to experience her mind-blowing revelations indoors and in private, should one decide to show up. 

Pajama-clad and full of warm tea an hour later, she lay awake in her bed staring at the ceiling, running Shino’s words through her mind on repeat.

It was, she decided, pretty sound. Truly, she would not have been able to stand a relationship with Gaara under the circumstances of the council’s wishes. But did that have to be the end of it? Was that setup the only way to play the game? She was unhappy, as Shino pointed out, because she thought she’d reached the end of the line and didn’t like what was there. What was stopping her from turning around and seeing if she could go another way, maybe make her own path?

_Because that would be sad and desperate, that’s why. I’m not going to confess to him like some dumb kid in a school drama and get my heart broken again._ _Why in the hell would I put myself out there after everything that’s happened? I just need to follow my own advice and get over it._

Because you are still in love with him, you dumb idiot, said a tiny, nagging voice in the back of her head. Her least favorite one. The one that always told the truth no matter what.

“‘If an opportunity should present itself.’ Yeah right,” she muttered to her ceiling tiles. “An opportunity to look like a lovesick moron. Which I am _not._ It’s over and he’s going to marry some Wind floozy and I’ll be bitter, but I’ll drink about it with Ino again and it’ll be okay.

Rolling a bit to face the row of plants on her desk, she resumed talking. “It must work that way, Colonel Sexpot. I don’t see how humanity would survive if everyone walked around in the depths of despair over all their lost love.”

Colonel Sexpot did not reply, because they were an aloe plant.

“It _must_ work that way.”

She fell asleep with the scent of cactus bloom heady in her memory and with the pinched-nose feeling of someone trying very hard not to cry.

* * *

Crisp, early spring air gave way to a windy-yet-tolerable April, and as everyone predicted, invitations began appearing in the mailboxes heralding Naruto and Sasuke’s upcoming nuptials. Least surprised of all were Sakura, who’d had a front-row seat to the most oblivious courtship anyone had ever witnessed, and Ino, who had taken point in all artistic decisions regarding the invite layouts.

Sasuke had wanted them to be understated and classic. Naruto had investigated the possibility of summoning seals that activated when opened to produce a toad in a bowtie, which would personally invite the recipient to the ceremony and reception. This trend continued for most of the wedding planning, which Sakura and Ino regrettably provided for free: Sasuke preferred things to be sensible, and Naruto… didn’t.

She walked into their apartment one day to find them in the middle of an argument about the cost-to-benefit ratio of shipping in 10,000 peonies from the Land of Tea. She’d thankfully been able to team up with Sasuke and Ino to shoot Naruto down on that one. When a Yamanaka thought your flower order was over the top, it was time to sit down and think about your horticultural choices.

Sasuke had caved on the horses, though. “We’ll have them tethered to a tree in the background,” Naruto had said. “You know, to represent how majestic we are.” 

It was sure to be a spectacle, if nothing else. Wedding planning also offered a fantastic distraction from her broken heart, which Sakura adamantly maintained to herself and others that she did not have.

Of course, the universe always found ways to work around stubborn denial, and the part of the universe that loved torturing her for _no reason_ reared its ugly head in one of those gift shops old ladies congregated in to complain about young people. Sakura met Ino there after breakfast, both of them hunting for an appropriately tasteful-yet-ostentatious picture frame to use for display at the gift table.

It was there that Ino, the universe’s current vessel for committing atrocities, informed Sakura in hushed tones that Gaara would be arriving the next day for a Kage Summit.

“Oh.” Funny, the way she could get so far away from it all in her mind only to fall right back in, like someone face-planting into a wall because they were so focused on looking over their shoulder to make sure nothing followed them.

“Yeah. Sorry for springing it on you like this, but I only found out this morning and there wasn’t really a better time to bring it up, since I’ll be on a mission in a couple hours. Didn’t want you to be caught off guard.” Ino finished paying for the frame and they left the shop together, their walk back to Sakura’s apartment filled with unsettled silence.

“Well, thanks for letting me know, Ino-Pig.” _Damn it damn it damn it—_

Wedding paraphernalia filled Sakura’s tiny apartment from floor to ceiling in some places. The Uchiha compound would have been a better idea, but Sakura insisted, rationalizing at the time that the less opportunities Naruto had to get his hands on decorations, the better.

“Sure thing.” Ino set the bag on the kitchen table, rubbing her hands together in determination. “No time to mope about it, Forehead. Let’s see if we can finish a few more of these gift bags before I head out.”

* * *

Hiding from Gaara was surprisingly easy, though Sakrua knew that if he’d really wanted to hunt her down, she’d have at most five minutes before being discovered, even if she ran headlong into the wilderness to escape.

It wasn’t cowardice. She just wasn’t ready to face him yet as a—a friend. A friend who had left the country without telling him and who had ignored all his attempts to reach out to her since then. And if she happened to volunteer to do autopsies in the basement all day, a space in which even the most esteemed guests were not allowed under any circumstances, then that was merely a coincidence.

He surely saw through her bullshit, but his visit came and went without incident. The clock showed well past midnight when Shizune finally kicked her out. Unlike most of the rest of Konoha, Shizune had no illusions regarding Sakura’s distress and did not do her fellow medic the courtesy of playing social charades.

“He’s gone by now,” Shizune said. “Get out. Go home.”

At her doorstep she found Lee with a note in his hand from Gaara.

“He asked after you,” Lee said, discomfited by the whole thing. He handed the note over delicately, like it contained a bomb. “The Hokage asked me to be their delegation’s local guide. I did not tell him where you were, but it was clear to me that he missed you and wanted to see you again.”

Sakura closed her eyes, leaned up against her door for stability. “Lee, please don’t.”

Lee shrunk a little the way he always did on the rare occasions she scolded him but continued. “He told me that you left Suna at the end of your mission when he was away. Whatever happened, you should know that he thinks you are angry with him.”

She read his next question in his eyes before it came out. “He didn’t do anything to me, Lee. I’m okay. I’m just really terrible at saying goodbye, I guess. Things ended not so great and it was awkward and now I don’t know what to say. Everything I think of sounds so trite in my head.”

Lee nodded and gave her a thumbs up. “I was told by several people today that my relationship advice is quite terrible, so all I will say is good luck. I hope that when you see him again, you know exactly the right words to say.”

And with that, he cartwheeled away into the night, frightening several stumbling drunks and a small street dog.

She didn’t open the note until she’d locked the door, making certain that no one was around before she unfolded the paper.

_I’m sorry,_ it read. Simple, without punctuation. Every letter hit her like a stab in the chest.

“Ice cream and late-night soaps for dinner it is, then.”

* * *

All functional weddings are alike; each dysfunctional wedding is dysfunctional in its own way. Thankfully, Naruto and Sasuke’s wedding managed to consolidate its dysfunction in the reception, after most other guests had left. The ceremony, a traditional style wedding based on Uchiha practices, had been perfect.

Unfortunately, the dysfunction in question had entirely to do with Sakura, who for once was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Everything had been going so well up to that point; Sakura, who did not believe in fate, had nonetheless concluded by now that fate certainly believed in her, and in its own ability to screw her over when she had the audacity to attempt moving on with her life.

Gaara had been at the ceremony, of course; in a shocking display of social awareness, Naruto had made sure that while she and Gaara both claimed seats appropriate to their relation to the happy couple and to their respective social status, neither would be able to awkwardly meet eyes without some serious spinal contortion.

It still hurt to see him there. It hurt to see his siblings, who’d greeted the rest of her peers with cheerful faces but made excuses and left whenever she mingled near them. It hurt to see that one of Suna’s council elders had come to the wedding, knowing that her current unhappiness she owed mostly to their petty scheming. Ino told her that, most likely, the elder was here to meet with the Nara clan, given Shikamaru and Temari’s recent engagement, but it was tempting to believe she was here to rub Sakura’s failed relationship in her face.

It hurt even more to see that Gaara hadn’t brought the dreaded fiancé, because despite everything she still felt like approaching him, giving him an affectionate peck on the cheek, and plopping down beside him like she belonged there. Empty space at his side just hurt more, because she knew exactly how easily she’d fit before.

Evening fell. Sasuke and Naruto greeted the reception goers to thank everyone for their attendance, and one by one the guests left. Soon all that remained were Sakura, Ino and Tenten (Sakura had let out an unholy shriek of delight when she’d found them necking in a training ground), and a few of the more determined guests who conspired to test the limits of the open bar.

Although Sasuke had wisely hired a professional wedding planner for most of the procedural concerns and big purchases, Sakura still wanted to stay to the end, partly to ensure that nothing went wrong requiring either a medic or a punch in the gut, and admittedly to join those more determined guests. The fact that this would help her avoid bumping into Gaara elsewhere where there were less onlookers to dissuade him had nothing to do with it, thank you.

Ino and Tenten made noble attempts to coax Sakura out to join the rowdier Reception Part II taking place at the Uchiha Compound, but ultimately left as well when Sakura cordially waved them away. Wistfully, and by now more than a little tipsy, she watched them go hand in hand into the night. And then, there was no one left but her and the bartender.

Or so she thought.

“I suppose you think you’ve won, then.”

She turned slowly. Leiko Hoki, the Suna party’s accompanying elder, stood before her in stiff, formal posture, wrinkling her nose at the drink in Sakura’s hand. Seaside cliffs in winter couldn’t look less inviting than this tiny woman in plain kimono. Sakura remembered her well as the one who took every opportunity to snub her during meetings. Well, now she knew why.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She scanned the reception for a friendly face, anyone she could use to make an ungraceful exit, but of course there was no one left, and Sakura drew the line at hiding behind the bar until the Hoki woman left of her own accord.

“Do not dare pretend ignorance with me, girl. Your intolerable and highly inappropriate seduction of our Kazekage has done nothing less than to inflict absolute ruin on my clan. There is no one else but you to blame.”

“What the hell are you—”

“One month ago, the Kazekage left the procession to the Kage summit held in this very village and came directly to our ancestral lands, quite unexpectedly. There I was ashamed to behold his complete and utter refusal of our proposal, spouting all manner of nonsense about his personal happiness and how if we had our way, we would see his entire future ruined for the sake of power, that in this day and age he refused to submit to it. That he was intent on pursuing his own partners. I can’t imagine anyone but you would put such nonsense into his head.

“Not two days later the heiress fled in the middle of the night with some boy she’d been fooling about with. Took all her possessions. Left only a note: ‘For my happiness.’ Foolish children, the lot of you. How selfish you are. All of that planning ruined by some commoner playing at importance by association with her betters. She’d have been married to the Kazekage by winter and our tribe’s position would have been secured if not for you. I came here myself to ensure you know exactly what you’ve done, you disgraceful harlot.”

Sakura’s drink began to crack in her hand, and she took several deep breaths. “If you’re so certain your tribe’s current state is my fault, I fail to see the purpose of you coming all this way to harass me. If you want me to apologize, I won’t. I’m not sorry for being with Gaara. And I’ll never be sorry for loving him.” Anger gave her clarity through the haze of drunkenness, and though her vision wobbled just slightly, she didn’t miss the alarmed expression on Leiko’s face.

“Is it true, then? That he cast us off to crawl back to you, after everything you’ve done? I demand you tell me if you are still seeing him, girl. You will tell me at once.”

Sakura set her feet. A cold spray of liquid was her only warning when her cup shattered in her hand. She had to hand it to the old biddy, though: Leiko didn’t budge an inch. If anything, she leaned forward to meet Sakura’s challenge face-to-face.

“I’m not telling you shit, old lady. Just because you’re mad you can’t yank the Kazekage around however you want doesn’t suddenly make me owe you answers. I’m _glad_ she left. At least _some_one in Suna isn’t interested in reliving your country’s sordid matchmaking history for political gain.”

That had been a step too far. Leiko’s face drained of color and her fury made her tremble.

“You—you dare—his mother’s death had _nothing_ to do with us. The Kazekage clan has always arranged marriages this way with the old tribes. This union had been planned with his father since his birth. He never would have chosen you had you not thrown yourself at him like a common whore. They would have been _happy_ together.”

“Keep telling yourself that, bitch.” Sakura shook the glass shards out of her hand and turned on her heel. “I’m leaving before I lay you out and start a war. Maybe I’ll go find Gaara and remind him of all this no-clan pussy he’s missing, hmm?”

“You will _not_ pursue him. I forbid it. You _will_ promise me to keep away from him. There will be consequences for your insolence, girl.”

“I’m not promising you shit either. God, this is why I hate going to weddings. There’s always gotta be one dramatic showdown.”

She left Leiko spitting threats in the event space without a backward glance, making her way toward the Uchiha Compound with the most unladylike stomps she could muster, hard exterior belying the inner voice which screamed at her that this was what Shino had been telling her to look out for.

_I am _not_ getting my heart broken again. Fuck the Hoki. Fuck Suna. Fuck everybody. _The only logical thing to do next was get drunk as hell and forget this ever happened.

_He still wanted to be with me. He was willing to cut ties with the Hoki for me. _But had he? He could have just meant what he said in the generic sense. “Partners” didn’t have to mean her. But who else would it have meant?

_And she could’ve been lying about the whole thing. God knows she’s got the motive. And the spite. _

It was too late to go back to him. Distance stretched between them like a pit and she couldn’t bear crawling inside without knowing for sure if she’d make it out the other side this time. She hadn’t answered his letters, had avoided him at every opportunity. How humiliating that must have been.

_Too late now. _

A harvest moon hung in the sky overhead, bright enough to light her path all the way to the compound. Nothing but empty streets greeted her as she walked.

* * *

“I must speak with you at once. Alone.”

Gaara looked up from his breakfast, not at all surprised to see the pinched face of one Leiko Hoki. She often approached him like this: he in the middle of something, often alone, and she claiming all manner of urgency. During his first year as Kazekage he’d done his best to be at the beck and call of the elder council, succumbing to their requests and orders in an attempt to prove his transformation.

“I’ll have time to speak with you once we’re back on the road to Wind. Barring an emergency, of course. Kankuro and Temari are with the Hokage now, and once they get back we can leave.”

These days, he’d learned the value of pretending not to listen. That or a well-formed distraction tended to work nicely. But today, Elder Hoki would not be deterred.

“The _very_ nerve. Well you make a fine pair, the two of you. No respect for your betters. No wonder you fell into one another’s beds.”

His chopsticks froze halfway to his mouth.

“Who—?”

“Don’t _you_ play the idiot as well. That Sakura Haruno. Rudest girl I’ve ever seen. Made a terrible scene at the reception after I tried to make amends.”

“Sakura? You spoke to her? After the wedding?”

Breakfast abandoned, he pushed away from the table to stand. Elder Hoki continued, her balled fist a hair’s breadth from unbecoming in the presence of a Kazekage.

“_Yes,_ at the reception. Drunk as a sailor of course, just like her disgrace of a mentor. I gave her every opportunity to apologize for her offenses, but she repeatedly refused to see any sense. She made you look like a fool in front of the whole continent and she said she doesn’t regret a thing. I’m sure she found the whole affair highly amusing.”

“She doesn’t regret—what did she say to you? Tell me.” His heart pounded.

“Why, so you can go crawling back to her and humiliate yourself one more time for her sake? She said she _loved_ you. I don’t believe it. Why would anyone—the girl is a social parasite. Before she became Miss High and Mighty, she was willing to have her fun, but off she goes the moment she gets some notoriety of her own. Hah.”

The room felt like it was spinning. She was still here. She stood up to Elder Hoki, told her she didn’t regret him. She said she _loved_ him.

He remembered writing his last note to her, alone in the room used for the summit meeting, after everyone else had gone. She’d left Suna without telling him. She hadn’t answered his letters. Logic told him she wanted nothing more to do with him and he should get on with the rest of his life. His siblings had told him the same.

She said she loved _him_.

Breaking up with Sakura had been difficult, but at the time he thought it was the right thing to do. Sand had always been his priority. Even at his lowest point, he’d never wanted to desert his village. But now he thought that there had to be such a thing as giving too much. If you gave too much after a certain point, you risked destroying yourself, because those who saw you as vulnerable scrabbled for the rest, using you up until you were dry. That was Elder Hoki.

At the time, he’d made the decision to break off the engagement, and to hell with the political blowback, mostly because of Sakura. But even when she began to drift away, he still didn’t regret his decision. It had, in many ways, been the first thing he’d ever done purely for his own happiness.

When he heard about the Hoki heiress going missing, he felt a sense of tranquility fall over him, even if Elder Hoki fumed and ranted and blamed him for it all. That poor woman would never have been happy with him. And now perhaps she would be. Though, desertion still was technically a crime. He made a mental note to track the two of them down, maybe see if he couldn’t pull some strings with his pre-brother-in-law to resettle them in Konoha under false names.

_She said she loved him. _

Gaara made up his mind. “I’m going to find her. Tell my siblings where I’ve gone, if they return and I’m still not back.”

He made his way out of the room, Elder Hoki tailing him all the way, hissing her displeasure. In the threshold of the front door he paused, looking back at her where she lingered in his shadow. She shook with anger. He wondered if, in another life, she’d ever truly been happy, or if she’d been content as a pawn sacrificed for the sake of her tribe’s power.

“You’ll regret this. You think love can overcome everything but all it does is cause pain in the end. Everything your father did was in service to the Wind. He gave everything to Suna. His wife. His children. His own life. It was as it _should _be. If you start down this selfish path, there’s only your ruin at the end of it. You think we all didn’t have lovers in our youth we clung to? Sooner or later you’ll have to grow up.”

Gaara closed his eyes, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. There was a time in his life he’d have killed someone for talking to him this way. Now, he only felt peace, and the heavy tension of hope.

“I have no intentions of becoming anything like my father. If you sacrifice everything you have, there’s nothing left that’s any good to anyone. Not to Wind. Not to you. Not to her. Not to me. His legacy is one of pain and suffering, and it’s not one I intend to honor or keep.” He turned his face away, to the street, to the rising sun. “I don’t feel bad about giving away a bit of myself for love, even if I do end in ruin. Suna can have the rest.”

He left the diplomatic buildings and made his way to Sakura’s as fast as decorum would allow. If Elder Hoki had anything else to say, he didn’t hear it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then Mr. Darcy--I mean Gaara--yeeted himself from the presence of Lady Catherine DeHoki to go wander shirtless on the highlands in the misty dawn
> 
> Tune in next time for the final installment: In This Chapter I TPK and Go Back and Change the Genre to Tragedy LoL
> 
> But no I would never do that to you.
> 
> OR WOULD I.


	6. In This Chapter There’s Some Sappy Shit and We Appreciate Succulents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe there was no sex in chapter 5? I should've put up a content warning for that. I probably traumatized some wholesome, horny people whose dreams were crushed by the realization that only 5/6 chapters contain wank. If I crushed your dreams because of this, know that I am not sorry in the least because I live to torment you, personally, as an individual.

Once upon a time, Sakura Haruno would never have thought to answer a knock on her door without at least some mascara and her hair brushed out, perhaps even some light concealer. After a life—and beauty routine—changing experience regarding her long hair in the Forest of Death, she felt prepared to give a little where appearances were concerned.

But at age twenty, Sakura still maintained the belief that she was still a long way from answering the door in a bathrobe, hair crusty from last night’s products, and a combination of smudged makeup and mysterious fluids on her face. Turns out, that had nothing to do with biological age and everything to do with the magnitude of fucks one gave as linear time progressed. People tended to feel very strongly about fewer things as children and teenagers, and while the number of fucks increased as adulthood encroached, the magnitude of fucks could only sustain sanity if the magnitude varied.

In other words, the more time passed and your aggregate fucks increased, there were times to give a fuck about looking hot, and there were times your fucks were low and you answered the door… well, in a bathrobe with crusty hair and enigma-face. This was one of those times.

It had been a rough night.

“Hang on, I’m coming, I’m coming. Better be important: it’s six fucking AM.”

God. If it was Lee asking her to go on another morning run, she’d kill him. She’d kill him until he was paste.

Last night, her plan had been to drink until she stopped being sad. This did not work until several drinks in. As everyone knows, drinking will make a person _more _said until the apex of the drink/sad parabola, after which point the sadness goes down dramatically until death is achieved. Lucky for Sakura, she’d found a sweet spot after drink six. Maybe. If there were any more drinks after that, she wasn’t sure.

There were probably more drinks. In the cruelly pedantic manner of natural science, sleep had once again proved helpful but not magic, and she was definitely still mildly tipsy from the night before.

And wasn’t this Sasuke’s bathrobe? Where were her _clothes?_

The knocker continued, every rap a bayonet spearing through her aching skull.

“Calm your ass down, goddammit.” She flung the door open dramatically, fist forming at her side in preparation to meet Lee’s sweet, innocent face.

Fortuitously, she delayed her punch just long enough to verify her victim’s face, or else she would have found her apartment filled with trigger-happy mom sand, with Sakura squashed underneath.

There were a lot of people she would have expected to show up on her doorstep the night after the drunkest, most lascivious, least sensical reception after-party this side of the earth. Gaara, dressed in his formal robes of office without a hair out of place, holding his ridiculous hat in front of him like a shield, hadn’t been one of them.

“Good morning. I’m sorry to disturb you.”

He had. He had really, really disturbed her this time.

Excuses and shameless flirtation and professions of love tumbled over one another in her mind; on a good day she might have been able to work with one but rallying her sleep-deprived party-brain felt like picking up a bowling ball covered in grease.

“If this is about what I said to Elder Hoki I apologize. I had no right to—”

“You said you loved me. That’s what she told me.”

The sun rose behind him and blinded her to the subtleties of his face, but even so she could see the way his hands clenched tightly at the brim of his hat.

“She said that?”

“If it isn’t true, if you want me to leave, I will. I’ll never speak to you again if that’s what you want. But please,” one of his hands reached out and gently took hers. She felt it tremble in his steady grip. “Please just tell me. Did you tell her—do you love me?”

Imperceptibly, she tensed her arm muscles in preparation to pull away. Too fast. Too sudden. Not enough _sobriety._

“She isn’t, uh” Sakura stammered out. “Well, she didn’t _lie_ to you, exactly.”

_“Sakura.”_

A beat. His shaking inhale. Then, she dropped her head. Was there anything else to lose at this point?

“It’s true. I do love you. I’m sorry. For everything.”

He let out a quiet laugh; the hoarse, unfamiliar sound made her head snap up. His hat fell to the ground, forgotten, and he reached for her face with both hands, cool palms meeting her cheeks.

“How could you be sorry for loving someone?”

She gripped him at the forearms, not pulling him away but clinging to him like a lifeline.

“But you—the Hoki—you’re _engaged_ now. You must be. The time is up…”

“No,” Gaara said. They began drawing closer together as though magnetized. “I broke that off weeks ago.”

“Gaara, you can’t! You can’t ruin relations with a whole _tribe_ because of me. Think of what your council will do!”

“I’ve already seen what they can do. They let my father make me. They let my mother die to create a weapon. I won’t let them sacrifice anyone else’s happiness for ambition.”

The tears came, the ones that wouldn’t the night before. But these ones felt wonderful even though she knew she’d only be adding to her dehydration.

“You’ll get so much pushback for this. There’s no way I can be worth all this trouble.”

“I’d go through all the trouble in the world to be with someone I love.”

Intense, unblinking, sharp. He’d never lost that look from the first time, and a break from those eyes had done nothing to lessen their stilling effect on her. She felt the sure strength of his will emanating from every part of his body, bolstering her resolve through his connection with her skin.

Had it been there, all that time ago? The little seed of something that traveled across dunes and forests and plains to take root underneath them? She hadn’t noticed the shoots pushing up through the ground, taking note only of the way they’d disturbed the surface below.

But one thing was certain, she wasn’t about to explore this newfound revelation out here in the unfortunately crisp morning air. Not that this wasn’t a life-altering moment, but a few early-rising civilians and patrolling shinobi alike had stopped to gawk at the world’s best free show happening above the local liquor store.

“Will you come inside?”

“I’d be glad to.”

* * *

“You didn’t return any of my letters.”

He’d taken a seat at her kitchen table in the chair she’d started to refer to as ‘his.’ When she brewed their tea, the same blend she’d started to use every time he came over, he took off his Kazekage robes, hanging them and his beleaguered hat on her coat rack. The smaller gourd of sand he now carried wound up in the shoe tray. He wore plain traveling clothes underneath, nondescript and brown, but exceptionally tidy in ways that reminded her how dearly she needed a shower.

“Yeah…” She winced, grateful her back was turned to him at the stove. “I was hoping you wouldn’t mention that. Should I just… get rid of those, now?”

She jumped when she felt his hands on her. At her waist he applied a light pressure in a facsimile of the confident embraces he used to give her when she made tea for them. Sometimes he was naked, and they’d been unable to keep their hands off of one another long enough for her to get a kettle going.

“Is this okay?” Still hesitant. But not for long, perhaps.

“Yes,” she breathed.

“I thought it was all over. You left and you didn’t answer the letters, and I wondered if something happened to you. I was here and I couldn’t find you. Lee wouldn’t say anything, but I knew then you were avoiding me.”

“I know,” she didn’t turn, feeling too weak to look him in the face quite yet. She concentrated her gaze on the kettle spout, watching the vibrations from the heating water grow more intense. “I know.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want to mess it up.” She shrugged against his chest. “I thought you were going to be engaged, and that I was going to mess up the alliance and everything by being with you. By being anywhere near you. I knew I couldn’t just be friends after everything that happened between us. I didn’t even know who she was, and I already hated her. Having… having the pregnancy scare was a wake-up call. It was real. It was real and I’d—I’d messed everything up.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Why? You’re not the one who practically snuck out of an entire country in the middle of the night because you were too chicken-ass for a breakup.” She lifted the kettle just before the boil and poured steaming water over her strainers, pleased at the way she didn’t even tremble. She turned her head over her shoulder but didn’t make eye contact with him, hinting, and he returned to the table, accepting his cup from her with both hands.

“I may not have done that, but what I did as a leader, as a… friend, was inexcusable. I compromised my role as Kazekage the moment I allowed the council to continue their exploitation of my personal life for their gain. I may be moved to compromise with them in other areas, but my relationships should never have been on the table in the first place if they never threatened the security of the Sand.”

He reached across the table and took her hands in his. Sakura curled her fingers around him, accepting.

“I should never have allowed them to control me,” Gaara continued, “and I should never have come to you with an ultimatum. I gave up before I’d even considered standing up for myself, for my position. In my pursuit of stability and respect, I let go of too much of myself. How many other things might they have taken from me in time?”

Sakura took a breath but stopped when she felt a squeeze.

“Wait. I also acted poorly when you told me that you thought you were pregnant. I should have been there for you and I only made you feel worse. That was wrong of me.”

She smiled at him, smiling bigger at the familiar way he sat up a little straighter when he saw it.

“Thank you for that. For the rest, the council stuff. I can’t really get angry at you, not after seeing that Hoki woman. They’ve been playing this game for a lot longer than either of us have been alive. At least where I’m concerned, I don’t want you beating yourself up over that bit. It’s done. And now you’re here.” She rubbed her thumbs in lazy circles over his metacarpals, feeling the tendons beneath her fingertips relax.

“Now I’m here,” he repeated. 

Sakura sighed, releasing his hands to cup her tea, still a bit too hot to drink. “Why did we make this so hard on ourselves?”

Gaara shrugged. “Perhaps we both think too much of other people. What they think of us, what they expect us to do.”

“Yeah.” She took a careful sip. “I guess if there’s one thing I regret, it’s not letting myself take risks. I thought by telling you I wanted to just stay friends that you’d be more willing to be with me. That if I made myself seem low maintenance, you’d keep coming back.”

Sakura sat back in her chair, looking up at him from where she’d been studying the leaves in the bottom of her cup. “But somewhere along the way I realized how damaging that really is. I’m not high maintenance. It’s just that I expect people to put no effort in their relationship with me and I mold myself around that expectation thinking ‘well, I either make myself small and learn to accept the crumbs of affection I’m lucky to get, or I die alone.’ It’s like everything is a performance designed to please others and I didn’t know where the stage ends.

“I should’ve said what I wanted from the start. It would’ve been hard, but it would’ve been better. Who wants to be with someone who feels like you’re too much work? Better to leave those kinds of people behind. But in the end, I just didn’t think I would be worth anything to you if I didn’t make it ‘easy.’ I mean, I also still thought I was in love with Sasuke at the time, so that complicated things, but I was willing to give him all the same shitty low standards.”

She smiled, more of a quirk to the lips than anything else, and glanced down at the table again.

“It must sound funny to you. When people see me fight and when I’m at work, everyone thinks I’m so aggressive and in charge. But when it comes to most relationships, I’m really not.”

Gaara folded his hands together and nodded thoughtfully. “I think I see what you mean. I suppose I did the same with my council. I was so worried that they’d never see me as anything other than a monster that I became completely passive, when I should have been aiming for somewhere in between.”

“Well,” Sakura held her teacup up and Gaara gave her one of his little smiles as he tapped his cup to hers in a toast, “here’s to us not being doormats in the future. And that’s enough philosophy for today. I think I might finally be sober now.”

Gaara blinked. “I thought—don’t you always wake up this early?”

“Gaara.” Sakura gestured at herself with a free hand. “Afterparty. What time did you get tucked into bed last night, nine PM? You should go out drinking with me sometime. Just once.”

He stared at her pointedly. “No thank you.”

_“Rude._ So… are we, like, in a real relationship now?”

“I think that’s up to us.”

“Well, if you don’t mind…” She reached her hand across the table once more and once more he took it gently in his own. “I want to try.”

“I’d like that.”

“So, what now? Weren’t you leaving?”

“I let my people know I might be staying a bit longer.” He finished the rest of his tea and sat the teacup down on the table, tilting his head at her thoughtfully. “That is, if I’m not imposing.” He squeezed her hand again.

_Oh my god, _Sakura thought. _That is most definitely a proposition. _Was it weird to go straight from an emotionally exhausting conversation straight to sex? He certainly looked serious about it. Last night, she thought she was having one of the worst nights of her life. She’d been drunk and sad and alone, and her best friends were getting married and some evil asshole from Sand decided to verbally harass her for a good time. And this morning, Gaara had catapulted back into her life seemingly out of nowhere, bearing philosophical hot takes on life and love and looking at her like there was nowhere else he’d rather be. And that he wouldn’t mind if she got naked and bent over the kitchen table.

But first things first.

“I really, really need a shower before anything else happens. I haven’t even brushed my teeth today.” She put the cups in her sink, and he followed her into the living room. She put her foot down when it looked like he might sneak into the shower with her and sat him down assertively on the couch, after rearranging some of the succulent pallets so he had room. Her house was full of dozens of them now; some were from him, but she’d quickly gained a reputation as the Cactus Girl around town and so now she found at least one in front of her door or stuffed in her mailbox every week.

“No, I’m nasty. You stay here.”

He complied, settling down without another word. Even though she still had no idea where the hell this thing between them would go, Sakura mused, at least she could count on him to be okay with a little bossiness. Part of her suspected he even liked it, the way he liked those rare occasions she got to fuss over any injuries he’d accrued.

She dumped the robe on the ground right outside the bathroom door just to be a tease but closed the door firmly behind just in case he got any ideas. Concealed from his intelligent eyes, she turned the shower on full blast and rubbed her upper arms to hide the way she shivered with anticipation. Underneath the water, she turned her face up to the spray and screwed her eyes shut as she scrubbed hard at her crusty hair, thinking.

It still didn’t feel real. Last night she’d been fully prepared never to speak to him again, at least never in any casual way. She’d messed everything up and it was over, and she’d honestly believed everything was her fault. Now, she had a chance at some real happiness. Though the idea of a legitimate relationship still terrified her, she’d come to a place where she was willing to try.

She still didn’t quite believe she was worth it—not that small, cruel part of herself that she’d quieted but never really exorcized—but maybe being happy didn’t have to mean having perfect self-esteem. Maybe it was more like a journey where you continually had to watch the road to make sure you didn’t step off into the weeds.

And maybe the walk was easier when someone walked beside you and you agreed to watch out for one another’s weeds.

Feeling sufficiently clean, she shut off the water and toweled dry, patting at her hair with the hand towel. It was now or never.

When she left the bathroom, stepping primly over the pile of Sasuke bathrobe, Gaara still sat exactly where she’d left him, though he’d taken the liberty to pick up one of her more difficult charges, a little barrel cactus that had yellowed a bit. She smiled and walked to him, settling into his lap with a leg on each side. He placed a hand on her waist but kept hold of the little pot.

“Sunburn,” he said.

“The cactus? Can they even get sunburnt?”

“They can when they’re not used to it. Move it from your window so it gets less afternoon sun and it should perk back up.”

She gently took the cactus from his hands and placed it on the coffee table behind her.

“What about me?”

He looked up at her. “What about you?”

“I’m afraid I’ve been overwatered. Know any good fixes for that?” She started at his waistline, running her hands up slowly to rest on his shoulders.

He reached up and began unbuttoning his shirt until Sakura pushed his hands away and finished the job herself. “I’ll have to dig you up and let the roots drain, unfortunately.”

“Oh, Gaara.” She gripped his outer- and undershirt and pulled both over his head impatiently. “You’re supposed to say something _suggestive_.”

He wrinkled his nose up at her. “Then you should have gone for the pollination line. That one’s easy. And lots of them are blooming, too.”

He was right. A few of her larger acquisitions had begun to open blossoms, confused perhaps by the change in environment from the scrubland to her climate-controlled apartment in Konoha. The heady smell of overripe fruit hung in the air. On days where they really got going, it almost made her lightheaded.

“Well,” she said, giving him a kiss on his forehead to show she wasn’t really upset, “I’ll just have to outsource all my pickup lines to you in the future.”

“I wouldn’t count on them being any good.”

She lifted off him long enough for him to wriggle out of his pants, and then there was nothing between them but skin when she sank back onto him, pulling him close as he pushed in until they met at the hips. Their lips met in a dizzyingly tense kiss, and they clung to one another so tightly it almost felt painful.

Rocking back and forth was easiest in this position, and despite the pleasure she slowed her movement, reluctant to end the moment too soon. He rested his head in the bend of her neck, tongue wicking up beads of steam that had accumulated there from her shower. She thought of the first time they’d crashed headlong into one another, desperate and awkward in a deserted greenhouse, taking out their loneliness and stress on one another’s bodies.

They’d come a long way since then. Though, Sakura’s propensity for thinking inappropriately silly things during appropriately sexy moments had never gone away. She never had gotten around to making that Unexpected Sex Kit…

At her giggle, Gaara looked up at her, shaking his head at her antics. He’d asked her once like this what she’d been thinking about, but only sent her into uncontrollable titters that had resulted in the sex being put off until later. She thought of telling him purely to be coy, but couldn’t bear the thought of stopping now. And in any case, his current remedy for her humor was to shift the angle of his hips to hit her where he knew it drove her wild, and she obliged by tossing her head back and letting out all manner of salacious noises.

Sakura pressed against him with purpose now, meeting the rock of his hips with her own in the perfect timing they’d worked so long on together. When she knew she was close, she pressed his face against her chest and buried her nose in his hair, struggling to get as close as possible. She came, her orgasm long and intense, and she rode it out with his fingers pressing softly against her as Gaara teased her out until she couldn’t take any more.

Limply, she tried to continue but her peak had left her boneless and noncompliant. He shifted them so that her spine rested against the back of the couch and he faced her, supporting her thigh with one hand as the position gave him better control. She whimpered when he got up to speed again, whispering encouragement in his ear until his thrusts became uneven and he went over as well, moving inside her until he relaxed completely and all that was left were the tiny pulses at longer and longer intervals. Then, it was only the two of them in a pile of tangled limbs. Familiar and comforting.

He pulled her forward until he could reach an arm around to hold her and stroked her body gently with his other hand as he came down.

“What were you thinking, in the greenhouse where it all started?”

She felt him shift to look at her, but kept her face pressed into his chest, too comfortable to move.

“Nothing. Sex is not a thought-provoking activity.”

“Not _that.”_ She buried her nose more pressingly into his skin._ “_After. You kept looking at me in this really forceful way and I always wondered. Sometimes you still do it, when you get really intense.”

“Well,” he shrugged. “I had walked into a greenhouse to thank this girl for saving my brother’s life and then she took all her clothes off and destroyed my innocence. That’s quite an intense activity.”

“You pick the weirdest times to suddenly develop a sense of humor. Just—out of nowhere, I swear.” She nipped his skin light enough that the sand wouldn’t rush in but hard enough that he knew he was being disciplined_. _She’d gotten good at that after a while.

He rolled them over so that he was on his back and bent his knees. Instinctively, Sakura put her hands forward to catch her balance, and recognized the position he’d put them in. They weren’t on mulchy ground with lungs full of sodden air, but it was close enough.

He shrugged but smiled gently at her. “I probably wasn’t thinking about much then either. There was too much I _was_ thinking about. If you’d asked me then, I don’t know what I would have said. Now? It was like…it was like the whole sky opened up and I realized I’d been living underground the whole time.”

She blinked and drew back slightly. “Wow. That’s—do you think it’s like that for everybody the first time they have sex? I guess I was kind of the same, but the opposite. I’d been floating around in the clouds and that was like crashing down into the earth. In a good, reality-acknowledging kind of way.”

He shook his head. “Not the sex. That’s always the same. It feels good. It’s not complicated; it’s biological. But being with you… It was the connection we made. The way you weren’t afraid to touch me. I’d tried so hard to become someone people respected, someone they looked up to, but until then I hadn’t realized that I never put myself into that equation. It was always about other people, and what they wanted or what I thought they needed. That was the first time something happened to me and I said, ‘I want that again. I’m going to get it.’”

“And you did. _We _did. Eventually. After much second-guessing from both of us and a lot of emotional strife that could have probably been solved with a few mature conversations.” She settled down on top of him, hoping he didn’t have to leave before she could at least get in a nap…

“Yeah.” He continued petting her, and she’d just about drifted off when he spoke again.

“Sakura?” There was a tightness in his chest muscles, and when she dragged her head up to peer at him with bleary eyes, she saw a mischievous look in his face.

“What?”

“Thanks.”

The sound of her laughter floated up above the smell of the cactus flowers, and when Gaara reached for her again Sakura fell into his arms joyfully, struck with wonder at how he could ever have thought he would not be loved, how _she_ could have ever thought she wouldn’t be worth all the trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that's all, folks. If you've been reviewing all this time, thank you! The comments along the way are what really keep me going. If you haven't left a comment yet but stayed for the whole ride or lurked in the kudos section, I'd love to know what you thought here at the end!
> 
> Since writing again made me happy, I think there will be more to come from me. It will take some time, because just as with this project I'm going to finish the entire thing before it gets published. 
> 
> If you are planning on leaving a comment, I'd LOVE it if you'd point out something about this that you really liked (besides the presence of sex itself, you horny lovely people). Writing style, characterization, etc. That will really help as I plot out my next adventure and re-refine my style.
> 
> Thanks again for reading, and always remember to pee after you smash! (And to be polite and say thank you, which is a normal sex thing to do.)


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